A Tricky Gray Area - Part Three
by Madeline77
Summary: This is the third and final part of my Arrested Development fanfiction about Michael and Lindsay's relationship, covering 2003-2012. As you'll see, this part has a mix of original scenes and scenes from the show. Most of the first half is from the show and most of the second half is original, though both types of scenes appear throughout.
1. Chapter 1

_November, 2003_

"Do you have your check for your share of the party?" Michael asked his brother Gob, whom he'd met at Balboa Island, hoping to discuss his father's boat party. George Sr. was going to celebrate his retirement and hopefully announce that Michael would finally take over for him as CEO of the Bluth Company.

"You know, I sort of thought my contribution could be a magic show," Gob said, looking down at him from his segway.

"Oh, that's perfect, Gob!" Michael said sarcastically.

"Thank you," Gob said, apparently not picking up on the sarcasm.

"Or wait a minute. I just remembered something. Dad's retiring, not turning six."

"Hey, come on, I just bought this new illusion called the Aztec Tomb—"

"Come on, Gob, I don't care—"

"—it cost like, eighteen grand, I'm gonna do it on the boat! Look, what do you care, can't you just charge the party to the company?"

"No, it's not a business expense," Michael said exasperatedly.

"So what, Lindsay's been staying at the Four Seas for like a month, she's probably charging the company."

Michael blinked. "Lindsay's been in town for a month?" he said, taken aback.

Gob hesitated. "I don't think so," he said, and quickly rode away on his segway.

Michael stood there for a moment, a little stunned, as well as somewhat hurt. Jesus, had she asked the whole the family not to tell him she was here? Why would she do that? He thought back to the last time he'd seen her, when she'd visited a year ago. He had been pretty cold and distant, but he felt like it was justified since he'd been upset about her not calling him after his wife died. He was still upset about it, really, she had yet to apologize or even give him an explanation. And now she was enlisting the whole family in keeping the fact that she was here a secret from him? He decided to go confront his mother about it and find out what was going on.


	2. Chapter 2

_November, 2003_

Lindsay stepped out of the elevator onto her parents' floor. She was stopping by their penthouse for a visit on the way back from a somewhat unsuccessful shopping trip. She opened the door and saw her mother.

"Couldn't find a thing," she said, walking in and setting her shopping bags down on the couch.

"Lindsay!"

She jumped when she heard Michael's voice.

"Michael!" she said with a forced smile, turning to see him.

"How was your flight?" he asked.

"Great, great," she said, walking towards him. "We just got in."

"He knows," Lucille said.

"A month ago," she added. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, feeling extremely embarrassed and guilty. "I've been meaning to call you, I really have."

"Really?" he said dryly.

"It's just…been very busy," she faltered, discouraged by his tone.

"Ugh, it's been crazy," Tobias chimed in.

"We just had an amazing fundraiser for HOOP," she said cheerfully in an attempt to change the subject.

"HOOP?" Michael repeated.

"My anti-circumcision movement," she said, a little annoyed that he'd forgotten.

"Hm," he said.

"Believe it or not, we brought in over forty _thousand_ dollars."

"Unbelievable. Sounds like you saved enough skin to make ten new boys."

Lucille gave him a disapproving look of disgust.

"Well," Tobias laughed. "Most of that money was from the Bluth Company, I mean how—"

Lindsay quickly cleared her throat and gave him a warning glare. Michael looked at him in disbelief.

"—are you?" Tobias finished.

"Still good," Michael said sarcastically. "You know what? You guys have had your hands in the company coffer for years, but starting tomorrow, there is going to be a new boss in town, and you're all gonna have to start fending for yourselves. You're all gonna finally feel that sweet sting of sweat in your eyes as Buster!" He turned to Buster, who was playing the drum he'd gotten for his class on Native American tribal ceremonies. "You can't do that on the balcony, buddy?"

"Mom says it's too windy," Buster said.


	3. Chapter 3

_November, 2003_

Michael walked through the police station, looking for his family. After unexpectedly giving the promotion to Lucille instead of Michael at the boat party, George Sr. had suddenly been arrested for defrauding investors and spending company money on himself and the family. Michael had just finished talking to the S.E.C. and learned that his father was going to prison, and now he was trying to find his family to tell them the news.

It seemed that his family had reached the limit of how many times they could disappoint him in one day. First, he found out they'd all been hiding the fact that Lindsay was here for a month. Then they'd all celebrated as his father ripped the promotion he'd been promising him for years and years out from under him. He'd worked so hard for so long, he'd quit law school because his father had promised him he would make him CEO when he retired. But before he'd even had a chance to recover from that disappointment, his father had been arrested. He was starting to wonder why he was still living in the same state as these people.

He recognized Tobias's voice coming from the end of a hallway. He followed the sound and found his family in a waiting room.

"Okay," he said. "Guys, um… They are gonna keep Dad in prison, at least until this gets all sorted out," he said, expecting some kind of reaction, but they all seemed unfazed. "Also, the attorney said that they're gonna have to put a halt on the company's expense account."

Everyone gasped.

"Interesting, I would have expected that after 'they're keeping Dad in jail,'" Michael said.

"You know, Michael, Dad did name Mom as his successor," Lindsay said.

"And I'm putting Buster in charge," Lucille said, patting Buster's head.

"That's a good choice," Gob said approvingly.

"Buster? The guy who thought that the blue on the map was land?" Michael said incredulously. They couldn't be serious, he was the only one who had even worked at the Bluth Company, let alone knew how to run it.

"He's had business classes," Lucille said.

"W-w-w-w-wait," Buster said, standing up. "Eighteenth-century agrarian business. But…well, I-I guess it's all the same principles. Let me ask you, are you at all concerned about an uprising?"

"Okay, that's it!" Michael said, finally losing it. "I'm done! I'm sick and tired of the greed, and-and the selfishness and all the taking, forget it, I've got a son to think about. And you know, and Lindsay, by the way," he said, all his anger at her for not calling him after Tracey died rushing back when he saw her standing there looking so bored and unmoved. "I expected this from them because they're completely oblivious, but you? You should know better." He turned away. "Come on," he said to George Michael, and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

_November, 2003_

Lindsay climbed through the trapdoor into the attic of the model home, hoping she would have more luck here than she'd had in the rest of the house. Michael had quit his job at the Bluth Company and he and George Michael were moving to Phoenix. With them leaving town, Lindsay had decided to scour the model home for valuables in a desperate attempt to salvage some of the family's wealth before the potential collapse of the Bluth Company. So far it wasn't going very well. Almost everything she'd found had turned out to be a plastic homefill.

She stood up and looked around the attic. She immediately noticed a box labeled 'jewelry' and went over to it, thinking that sounded promising. Sure enough, when she opened it she found a jewelry box with several expensive-looking necklaces and earrings in it.

" _Yes!"_ she whispered triumphantly, combing through the jewelry and wondering who it belonged to and what it was doing stashed away in the attic of the model home. She opened a little blue velvet box and found what looked like an engagement ring inside.

Her breath caught in her throat. This must be Tracey's. She looked at the box again and saw that the box was in fact labeled 'Tracey's jewelry.' The 'Tracey's' part had been hidden from view earlier by one of the cardboard flaps. She looked around her and saw that there were boxes all over the attic with labels like 'Tracey's sweaters' and 'Tracey's pants + dresses.' Michael must have put all this up here when he moved in.

She looked back at the ring, which she now knew to be the one Michael had given to Tracey fourteen years ago. She hesitated, then pulled off her own wedding ring and replaced it with Tracey's. She stretched her fingers and twisted her hand around, examining it from different angles. She took it off and put her own ring back on, then put Tracey's ring in her pocket. Not to sell, of course, just to hold onto for a little while.

She closed the jewelry box and got up and looked around the attic for more valuables among the things that weren't labeled Tracey's. Her eyes fell on some silver candlesticks. She bent down to pick them up, then jumped when she saw George Michael.

"What are you doing?" she said, startled. She hadn't realized anyone was home.

"Packing up, what are you doing?" he said.

"Well, just looking for…you! To say goodbye to you!"

George Michael smiled. "I'm gonna miss you guys," he said.

"Oh, well. We'll come out and see you in…" she started to say, then realized she had no idea when they'd visit again. "Yeah, we'll miss you too."

"It's been nice having you guys around," he said as Michael walked in. "You know, to talk to. Since Mom died, it's been kind of lonely, and… I just wish we could all stay here."

"I-I need a hand with the van, please," Michael said, sounding a little guilty. "Sorry."

Lindsay looked back at him. Suddenly George Michael stepped forward and hugged her. She turned back to him in surprise. She didn't know him very well at all, she'd only seen him a handful of times in his life. She smiled and awkwardly hugged him back. He pulled away, looking embarrassed, and went to join Michael. Lindsay turned and watched them go, thinking guiltily about how little she'd tried to get to know him or his mother. She needed to get back to Boston, she'd had enough family for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

_November, 2003_

"Well, I guess he really misses his family," Michael said, sitting next to Lindsay on the step of the main floor of the model home. He'd just been surprised to learn that George Michael actually wanted to stay here with these psychos. He couldn't imagine why he would want that, but he did feel a little guilty that George Michael felt so disconnected from his aunt, uncle, and cousin.

"Well, he doesn't know us very well," Lindsay said.

"Yeah, clearly," Michael agreed. Lindsay laughed. Michael looked at her. He didn't feel as angry as he did before, but he still wanted an explanation. "Let me ask you a question, where the hell have you been, why didn't you call me?" he asked.

"Look at my life, Michael," she sighed. "Tobias is out of work, we're in debt. It's…" She screwed up her face.

"What are you doing?" Michael said. "Are you trying to cry?"

"I'm sad," she snapped. Michael raised his eyebrows. "Life is hard right now," she continued. "I've got the JDL on my ass…"

"JDL?"

She sighed. "Jewish Defense League," she muttered.

"Oh, the circumcision thing?" Michael groaned. "This is why I was against HOOP, why don't you just mind your own business, Lindsay?"

"See, this is why I didn't call you, Michael, because you're so judgmental!"

"No, I'm not, I'm not judgmental."

"And you're disappointed in me."

"I'm not disappointed in you—"

"You are."

He hesitated. "So I'm disappointed in you, but come on, what is not disappointing about _my_ life? I mean, Dad didn't give me the promotion, Dad's in _jail_. How disappointing is that?"

"So we're a disappointing family."

"We're an incredibly disappointing family!" he said. "But we are family. And I want my son to be happy, so…maybe we should be in each other's lives."

Lindsay smiled. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?" he said. She strained her face like she was trying to cry again. "Seriously, you're gonna pull a muscle," he said.

"Ugh, I used to be able to do this."

He laughed. She smirked at him. He smiled back. He didn't know why he was forgiving her so easily—she still hadn't apologized or even explained why she hadn't called him after Tracey died. But for some reason he just didn't feel like staying angry at her anymore. He couldn't help it, he missed her, and the last two years had been lonely with just him and George Michael. Suddenly the idea of having Lindsay and her family there with them sounded like just what they needed.


	6. Chapter 6

_November, 2003_

"Dad was always banker so there was no beating him," Michael said as he rolled the dice. The family was gathered in the living room of the model home playing a game of Monopoly.

"Totally," Lindsay agreed from the couch where she was lying, remembering the disastrous and sometimes violent ends to the Monopoly games they'd played as children.

"He should have been stocking up on those 'get out of jail free' cards," George Michael joked.

"Oh! Good one, George Michael!" Gob said, giving him a high five.

"Very good," Michael laughed.

"I wish you guys didn't have to go so soon," George Michael said.

"Oh. On that subject," Michael said. "These guys are actually gonna be staying with us. For a while. Just your aunt. And her husband. Not Gob."

"Really?" George Michael said excitedly.

"Yeah. What the hell, huh? Family first? Right? It is gonna be a little crowded though, so I think you're gonna have to share a room with your cousin."

Lindsay smiled at Michael. The day before he had surprised her by inviting her and her family to live with him and George Michael in Sudden Valley. When he'd said he wanted them to be in each other's lives she'd thought he meant they should visit more often. At first she'd been uncertain about uprooting her life in Boston, but Tobias didn't have a job anymore and there wasn't really anything keeping them there anyway. And she was touched that Michael wanted her there, especially after the way she'd treated him over the last few years. It felt very strange to go from not speaking to each other to living together for the first time since high school, but she was looking forward to it. She felt like she'd been drifting aimlessly for a while now, and she was eager for a change.


	7. Chapter 7

_December, 2003_

"Lindsay?" Michael called as he stepped into the model home. "Linds?"

"Out here!" he heard her call from outside. He walked through the dining room and out to the patio.

He had just learned that his siblings had been letting him ride his bike to work in 100-degree heat every day without telling him that they'd all been driving their father's car for weeks. The initial friendliness between him and Lindsay had quickly dissolved into the constant bickering of their childhood as Michael remembered just how annoying she could be. He was so tired of seeing her lounging around the house all day and buying sixty-eight-dollar hair conditioner with company money while he was working round the clock to keep that company from falling apart.

He stepped out onto the patio and found her lying on a lawn chair in a robe and reading a gossip magazine. He clenched his teeth. Was she even going to try to get a job?

"Okay, where's the car?" he said.

"What car? I don't know what you're talking about," she said unconvincingly.

"Dad's car. The one you didn't tell me that you had, even though I had to ride my bicycle to work all week."

"Oh, _Dad's_ car. Well, obviously I'm gonna use it if it's an emergency," she said, setting her magazine down and getting up and walking into the house. Michael followed her in, wondering if hair appointments and shopping trips were on her list of emergencies. "I have to get ready for the bachelorette auction," she said.

"The bachelorette auction. You know you're married?"

"You just go to dinner with the guy, it's for charity," she said, opening the fridge and taking out a spray can.

"That's what you said about posing for the 'Ladies of Literacy' calendar. The one with the pictures of all the thirty-year-old women in lingerie with their nipples covered by copies of _Oliver Twist_? Yeah, that made a big difference for the young ones."

"Yeah, well, it would have if it didn't get banned from the schools," she muttered, spraying herself with the spray can and putting it back in the fridge.

"Come on, face it, you just do all this charity crap just to stroke your ego, you don't even know what the auction's for tonight," he said as she got a sparkling water out of the fridge.

"The wetlands," she said.

"To do what with them?"

"Dry them."

" _Save_ them."

"From drying!" she said, walking past him. He raised his eyebrows. "Which is more than you would ever do, I mean, you're like the least charitable person I know."

Michael stared at her in disbelief. "I don't do _anything_ for myself. _Everything_ that I do is for this family."

"Oh, you don't do it for us, Michael, you just do it because you love being the guy in charge! 'Cause you love saying 'no.' Like you said to Gob, when he wanted a frozen banana. And even after he gave you the rights to his Mr. Bananagrabber character!"

"Alright, you know what?" he said as she walked away. For god's sake, had Gob called her to complain about that while he was riding his bike here? "I will start doing my charity work when you start doing yours. In the meantime, _where's the car_?"

She turned back. "I think Buster has it, I don't know. It's on the schedule," she sighed, pointing to a calendar on the wall and going back outside.

"There is a _schedule_?" Michael said incredulously, looking at the calendar she'd pointed to. It was the 'Ladies of Literacy' calendar, in which Lindsay was featured this month. "I always try so hard not to look at this thing," he muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

_December, 2003_

Lindsay stepped gratefully out of the smelly taxi and surveyed the wetlands she'd come to save. Wanting to prove to Michael that she was a charitable person, she'd joined a group of activists dedicated to preserving the wetlands. She saw the other activists at the bottom of a ravine and started walking down to join them.

She wished Michael could see her now. He was so arrogant, saying she only did her charity work to stroke her ego. She'd devoted over a decade of her life to causes like this one, which was much more than he could say. The warm feelings she'd had for him when she'd first moved in had quickly disappeared. She was so sick of him criticizing her all the time just so he could feel like he was better than her. She should call him now and tell him where she was, that would show him. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and called him.

"Hello," she heard him say.

"I'm in the wetlands," she said smugly. "I've got a poker thing and I'm gonna clean them up. So the next time you wanna tell me that I'm uncharitable, why don't you just ask yourself, who called you from the wetlands?"

"Who is this?" he said sarcastically.

"Nice try. You're the selfish one," she said in a sing-song voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some nature to save."

She hung up and triumphantly stuck her poker thing into the ground, then screamed when she realized she'd stabbed a frog.


	9. Chapter 9

_December, 2003_

Michael walked into the ballroom of the Balboa Bay Country Club. He was here for the bachelorette auction, which his mother had roped him into coming to. As he entered the room he saw that Lindsay was on the stage up for auction. He saw with surprise that her skin was badly sunburnt, her hair was a mess, and she was covered in bumps and scratches. Had she really gone to the wetlands today? He'd thought she was lying.

"What do I hear for Lindsay Bluth?" the announcer said as Lindsay posed. Michael waited for someone to bid on her, but the room was silent. "Gentlemen, it's a good cause."

Lindsay's smile faded. Michael looked around the room. Come on, someone was going to bid on her, weren't they? He looked back at Lindsay, uncertain whether her face was red from embarrassment or the sun damage. Maybe it was because for once she'd surprised him in a good way, or because he felt guilty for not believing her earlier, but he impulsively raised his hand.

"One thousand!" he said. Lindsay looked over at him. Her eyes widened when she was who it was.

"Seriously?" the announcer said. Michael shrugged. "Sold! To the man who truly knows what charity is."

Michael forced a smile and pumped his fist half-heartedly. Lindsay grimaced and turned and left the stage.


	10. Chapter 10

_December, 2003_

Lindsay walked through the hallway of the country club, trying to figure out how she would get home. Maybe she could get a ride from Michael? She didn't want to see him, she felt so embarrassed. But she didn't want to wait for a taxi either, or worse, ride home with her mother, who was sure to have a lot to say about this. She must have looked so pathetic up there. And _a thousand dollars_. Jesus, he really didn't want her to be embarrassed. It was very touching that he cared about her so much, though it must have looked a little odd to the rest of the country club members. She was surprised Michael was okay with that.

She walked around a corner and saw Michael.

"Oh, hi," she said, startled.

"Hi," he said, looking a little embarrassed as well.

She hesitated, thinking she should probably thank him. She was extremely grateful that he'd saved her from the humiliation of having no one bid on her. But the whole thing was so embarrassing that she didn't want to acknowledge that it had happened.

"Do you think you could give me a ride home?" she said instead.

"Yeah, sure," he said.

"Thanks."

They walked outside. Lindsay shivered in her strapless dress.

"Oh, here," Michael said, taking off his jacket and giving it to her.

"Oh, thank you," she said surprised. She put the jacket around her shoulders, ignoring the warm little thrill she felt. It smelled like his cologne and was still warm from his body. They stepped into the entryway, which was filled with people.

"Well, how embarrassing! My own brother buying me? I'd rather die!" she said loudly in an attempt to save face. She looked over at Michael, suddenly realizing it might look like she didn't appreciate what he'd done. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Maybe you're not that selfish."

"Well, you know, you actually went out there, I was impressed that you gave it a shot," he said.

They reached their father's car. A shiver went through her as she felt his hand brush her back. He opened the car door for her. A police officer came up to them.

"Excuse me," he said to Michael.

"Yeah?"

"Is this your car?"

Michael looked questioningly at Lindsay. Lindsay smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, it's his," she said.

Michael smiled back. The police officer turned him around and pinned him to the car.

"Ow!" Michael said.

"You're under arrest for the forced abduction of Helen Maria Delgado."


	11. Chapter 11

_December, 2003_

Michael knocked on the door to Lindsay and Tobias's room.

"Lindsay? Tobias?" he said. There was no answer. He glanced cautiously around him to make sure the hallway was empty, then quickly went into the room and set about opening drawers, searching for official-looking documents that might be related to any shady international dealings his father had done.

Michael had spent the last week trying to figure out where a mysterious and substantial amount of money in the international accounts of the Bluth Company had come from. His father refused to give him any answers and a thorough search of the office and his parent's penthouse hadn't turned up anything, so he'd decided to look in Lindsay and Tobias's room. It was a long shot, but Lindsay and George Sr. had always been close and he wouldn't put it past her to hide something for him.

Lindsay and Tobias were currently out of the house. They'd said they were going out for ice cream, but he thought it was more likely that they were going to marriage counseling, as he'd heard them screaming at each other about it the last few nights. He hoped they would have some success with it so he could finally get a good night's sleep.

He found a drawer full of folders and documents, most of which appeared to be from Tobias's former medical practice. He pulled the folders out one by one and looked through them, but with no success. He sighed in frustration. If his father would just tell him where the money had come from, none of this would be necessary. It seemed like he was the only one who understood how much trouble this family was in.

He saw what appeared to be a plain black photo album and took it out, thinking it was worth a shot. He opened it, expecting to see wedding pictures and baby pictures of Maeby and the like, but instead it was full of pictures of Lindsay in high school. He flipped through the album and found page after page of Lindsay with various friends and boyfriends he faintly recognized from their teenage years.

He stopped when he saw a picture of him and Lindsay standing on a pier. Next to it was a birthday card. Out of curiosity he lifted the plastic cover and pulled out the card and read it.

 _Lindsay,_

 _Happy 18_ _th_ _birthday! This past year has been hard, but it's made me realize how much you mean to me. I'm so proud of how far you've come. You're my twin sister, my best friend, and the most important person in my life. I hope you know that._

 _Love,_

 _Michael_

Michael looked at the card for a moment, surprised she had kept it for all these years. Had he really written that? The words were vaguely familiar, but it was hard to believe he'd written something so heartfelt to Lindsay. He looked back at the picture, which he now recognized as one they'd taken at Santa Monica on their birthday. He couldn't be sure, but he thought this was around the same time Lindsay had been struggling with an eating disorder. She did look unhealthily thin in the picture, with hollow cheeks and twig-like arms and legs, though her face was glowing with happiness.

He was surprised and somewhat moved that she'd kept these for so long. It made him feel a little guilty, though he didn't quite know why. It was just that he couldn't imagine saying something like this to her now, and the fact that she'd kept this card for so long made him feel like she was clinging to a time when he would. It also made him a little uncomfortable. This was right around the time when their relationship had veered into very inappropriate territory. But it was just a picture and a card in a photo album full of other pictures from her teenage years. She probably never looked at it anyway.

He heard the front door open downstairs, followed by Lindsay's voice.

"No, we're not going back, that was a complete waste of time!"

Michael hastily put the card back in the photo album and started putting away everything he'd taken out of the drawer, suddenly feeling very guilty for looking through her stuff.

"I thought he was great," he heard Tobias saying downstairs. "I certainly learned a lot."

"Really," Lindsay said derisively.

"Yes, and maybe if you'd been more open to the idea of therapy you would have learned something too!"

"Really, what do you think I would have learned?"

"That the only way this marriage is going to work is if you accept that my dream is to become an actor and support me instead of ridiculing it all the time!"

"You think _that's_ the biggest problem in our marriage?!"

Michael finished putting everything back where he'd found it and quickly got up and slipped out of the room and back to his own.


	12. Chapter 12

_December, 2003_

"I am _so_ sorry," Barry Zuckercorn, the family's longtime attorney, said as he came into the penthouse from the balcony. "It was a client."

Michael had called a meeting to discuss their father's incarceration, but they were finding it difficult to get any answers. Lindsay was sitting next to Michael on the couch, wondering how much longer this was going to take. So far it had been a complete waste of time, and she was hoping to get some money from her mother after the meeting and, if that went well, do some shopping.

"How long was I on the phone?" Barry asked, sitting down.

"Twenty-five minutes," Michael said impatiently.

"Twenty-five… Well, you know, with the cell phone charges I'm gonna round it out to about an hour, 'cause it's easier to bill. Anything else to go over?"

"We've got everything else to go over," Michael said. "We haven't done anything to get my dad out of jail."

"Okay, first of all," Barry said, putting his hand on Lucille's knee. "What are you doing? Pilates? Because no forty-year-old woman should look like that."

"Yeah, well, no forty-year-old woman does look like that," Michael said. Lindsay laughed and nudged his arm. He nudged her back. They'd been getting along much better lately. She was feeling warmer toward him since he'd rescued her at the bachelorette auction, and he'd been nicer to her over the last week as well. The only problem was that it was making her even more short-tempered with Tobias than usual.

"I do have some big news," Barry continued. "It's going to cost you a little money, twenty-thousand, something like that." Lindsay rolled her eyes. "The courts have agreed to let your father out of prison."

"This is the lawyer!" Lucille exclaimed.

"He's a master!" Buster agreed.

"For the entire afternoon!" Barry added.

"What?" Michael said. "What do you mean, 'afternoon?' What afternoon?"

"The day before Christmas! In time for the Living Classics Pageant, because I know how important that is to all of you."

The Living Classics Pageant, an Orange County tradition, consisted of live representations of classic works of art. The Bluth family had participated not only as a patron, but as an integral part of its most popular exhibit, Michelangelo's _The Creation of Adam_.

"I don't really want to be Adam this year," Buster said tentatively to Lucille.

"Well, if you wanna play Eve, you gotta get in line behind what, about five homos?" Barry joked. Michael and Lindsay stared at him. "That was wrong," Barry said. "I-I'm so sorry. It's just that I have one down at the office now, and I mean it is _every day_."

"I would be happy to play Adam," Tobias piped up. "Uh, I'd prefer a speaking part—"

"Please don't speak for the rest of the meeting," Lindsay interrupted.

Tobias laughed forcedly. "Zing!" he said, holding his hand out to Lindsay for a fist bump, but she ignored it. She really couldn't stand to hear one more word out of him right now. She didn't know why he'd even come to the meeting, she'd told him not to.

"No, no, seriously, I don't want to play Adam," Buster said.

"Buster," Lucille said impatiently. "Every year we go through this song and dance and every year you say, 'Thank you, Mama, for making me play Adam.' You're doing it."

"Okay," Barry said, slipping a pastry into his briefcase and getting up. "I'm gonna get out of your hair, we'll talk about this money later in the week."

"Excuse me," Michael said, getting up and following him to the door. "We're not going to pay twenty thousand dollars to get my dad out for one day."

"No, no, it's a _bond_. It's all refundable, unlike my time," he chuckled.

"It's been a complete waste of two hours, okay, we're just not going to do it , and that's that," Michael said. Barry took out his notebook and wrote something down. "What are you doing, are you writing two hours?" Michael said.

"No, I'm taking notes on the case."

"Let me see that."

"I taking notes on the case!" Barry said, pulling the notebook away and closing it as Michael tried to see what he'd written.

"Let me see what you wrote!" Michael said, trying to take the notebook from him.

"You're scaring me!" Barry said, and headed towards the door. Michael followed him, still trying to grab the notebook.

"Just leave it alone!"

"Let me see it!"

"Leave it alone, _it is a gift from a client_!" Barry shouted, managing to escape with the notebook and slamming the door behind him. Michael turned back to the family.

"Barry's very good," Lucille said.

"He's an idiot," said Lindsay.

"Exactly," Michael agreed. "And we're not trying to get Dad out for a night. We're trying to get him out for good. And we're gonna get a new lawyer, I actually know of one who's available. His name's Wayne Jarvis, he's a top guy."

Lucille stood up. "You know, I am _really_ happy that you two are in agreement," she said, glaring at Lindsay, who rolled her eyes. "But we're not getting rid of Barry. He's like family, and you can't fire family!"

"Yeah. I know," Michael said sarcastically on his way out the door. "Hey, Maeby," he said to Lindsay's daughter, who had just walked in.

"Maeby, where have you been?" Lindsay asked, standing up. She hadn't noticed she wasn't at the meeting.

"You left me at home!" Maeby said indignantly. "You do remember you have a daughter, right?"

"Uh, yes, uh, of course we remember and we were worried sick, young lady!" Tobias said unconvincingly. "She's fine. Our daughter is alright, everybody," he said to the family as they filtered out of the room. Maeby angrily stormed out as well.

"You said you didn't want her to come," Tobias said to Lindsay.

"I said I didn't want _you_ to come."

"Oh, that make more sense…"

"Now she's going to think we're totally self-involved!"

"I-I can fix this," Tobias said. "Buster's probably still in the lobby. Let me go see if I can't get him to give me the part of Adam."

"Okay, and I'll see if I can get some money from my mom," she said.

They split up, Tobias leaving the penthouse and Lindsay going over to her mother.

"Lupé!" Lucille called to her housekeeper. "There are some juice glasses on the sofa table."

"Oh, Mama!" Lindsay said cheerily. "I'll help you clean up!" She turned to Lupé. "There are some salad plates on the piano," she said, and joined her mother in the dining room. "Wow, what a party. You make it look so effortless."

"What do you need money for?" Lucille asked snidely. "A divorce?"

"No, Mom, Tobias and I are doing fine, thank you," Lindsay snapped. "It's my credit card debt."

"Forget it."

"Fine! I'll ask Michael, he'll give it to me."

"Well, maybe if you get him drunk. It's the only way he'll give money to someone he calls a 'stay-in-bed mom.'"

Lindsay looked at her, taken aback. "He said that about me?" she said.

"I thought it was harsh. But you know, he thinks you're completely irresponsible. A stay-in-bed mom… Probably because you don't work and you're lazy. His words."

Lindsay shook her head, hurt. "I can't believe him," she said, and turned and walked away.

"I know!" Lucille called after her as she left the penthouse. "Just when you were getting along so well!"

Lindsay stormed down the hallway and reached the elevator, pressing the down button with much more force than was necessary. How could he do this to her? She'd thought they were getting along so well. She'd felt like they were on the same team again, like when they were kids and it was always the two of them against their crazy family. But the whole time he was making fun of her behind her back, and to their mother of all people. Well, she'd give him a piece of her mind, she'd show the two-faced bastard he couldn't treat her like this.


	13. Chapter 13

_December, 2003_

Michael stood in the kitchen of the model home and dialed Barry Zuckercorn's number. He'd gotten a message from him earlier about his plan to have them pay twenty-thousand dollars to let George Sr. out of prison for an afternoon and he was calling him to reiterate that they weren't going to do it.

"Law offices of Barry Zuckercorn," he heard Barry's assistant say.

"Yeah, it's Michael Bluth for Barry."

"I'm not here," he heard Barry whisper over the phone.

"Uh, Barry's not here, can I give her a message?" the assistant said.

"Tell her she needs to whisper a little softer next time, _and_ I'm not paying for this phone call!" Michael said angrily, and hung up. Lindsay came down the stairs into the kitchen. "That's it!" Michael said to her. "I've had it with this jerk Barry, I am going to make Mom sit down with Wayne whether she likes it or not."

"You're the jerk," she said.

Michael looked at her in surprise. "Did I just wake you up? I didn't even know you were home."

"No, Michael," she said heatedly. "I don't just sleep all day."

She stalked away into the living room. Michael followed her, confused.

"Where is all this coming from? I thought we were getting along."

She turned around. "Yeah. So did I. And now I hear you're telling our mother that I'm completely irresponsible and a 'stay-in-bed mom.'"

"That doesn't even sound like me, that sounds like Mom. Or Bruce Vilanch. Could be Bruce Vilanch."

"Yeah, well then why would she say it?"

Suddenly it dawned on both of them.

"Because we're getting along," Michael said.

"Because we're friends again," Lindsay said at the same time.

"You gotta remember, Mom typically has nothing in her system except a bottle of vodka and an estrogen pill," Michael said, picking up a bottle of vodka from the counter.

"Speaking of which," Lindsay said, smiling wryly at him. He smiled back and pushed the bottle over to her and she poured two glasses.


	14. Chapter 14

_December, 2003_

"Listen," Lindsay said, putting her hand on Michael's knee, her words slurred from the seven drinks she'd just had. They were sitting on the floor, Michael leaning against the couch and Lindsay sitting cross-legged across from him. "You're a _great_ guy, and if she doesn't see that, then someone else will," she said, referring to Marta, Gob's girlfriend who Michael was secretly in love with.

"You know what else, Lindsay, you're great," Michael said thickly, pouring himself another drink. "And I'm gonna move some money around if it's gonna help you get out of debt, you know, I'd be happy to do that."

"No, Michael—"

"Yeah, the hell with Mom, and here," he said, raising his glass. "Mom's never gonna between us again."

"Yeah," Lindsay agreed, clinking her glass with his. Michael leaned his head back against the couch. He was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself. He'd forgotten how much fun Lindsay could be to talk to, and it had been nice to finally be able to tell someone about his dilemma with Marta. He'd been trying to be nicer to Lindsay since he'd found the picture and birthday card, partly out of a sense of guilt for going through her stuff and partly because it had reminded him of how close they used to be and he felt bad that they'd drifted apart so much.

"It's really nice living with you again," Lindsay said Michael looked up at her, surprised. He smiled warmly at her.

"It's nice having you here," he said sincerely. He was really glad he'd asked her to move in. He felt so much less lonely now than he had before.

"It feels kinda like high school," she said.

"Yeah, kind of," Michael said, surprised. He thought again about the birthday card and picture. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

"We were so close then," she said. Her tone was light but there was a tension in it that made him nervous.

"Yeah," he said, a little apprehensively. She didn't mean _that_ , did she? No, of course not, it had been more than ten years since they'd even talked about it.

"A little too close," she added.

Michael opened his eyes. He lifted his head from the couch and stared at her. She smirked like it had been a joke, but he was so caught off guard that she'd even brought up the subject that he didn't know what to say. He laughed uncomfortably and looked down at the floor.

"Yeah," he said. He shook his head and laughed again, still not meeting her eyes. What was she doing, bringing that up? "I thought we were pretending that never happened."

"Oh, sorry," she said jokingly. "I think it's been long enough now."

"Yeah," he said hesitantly. "No, it hasn't. It will _never_ be long enough," he said, keeping his tone light but trying to get the message across all the same.

"Okay, okay, I got it," she laughed. "I won't bring it up again."

"Thanks," he said gratefully. He wished she hadn't said anything. They'd been having so much fun and now things were all awkward.

Lindsay sighed and lay down on the floor. "I'm too tired to go upstairs. I'm just gonna sleep here."

Michael raised his eyebrows. "On the floor?"

"Yeah, on the floor," she said, stretching her arms.

"You know, there's a couch right there," he pointed out.

"Ugh, fine," she groaned, sitting up and getting unsteadily to her feet. She tripped and fell against the wall, causing the light fixture to hit the floor with a crash.

"Whoa," Michael said, getting up automatically to help her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, turning to face him. Michael's heart skipped a beat when he saw how close she was, her face inches from his and his arm around her waist. He felt a sudden urge to kiss her. He quickly stepped away, feeling extremely confused. What the hell was _that_?

"Sorry about the light," she said, sounding similarly confused.

"It's fine, happens all the time," he said, not meeting her eyes. They stood in silence for a moment. It was nothing, it was just like those dreams he'd been having about her every now and then since she moved in, it didn't mean anything.

"Well, I'm going to sleep," Lindsay said, staggering to the couch and collapsing on it.

"Yeah, me too," Michael said gratefully, wanting to get away from her as quickly as possible. He turned and left the room.

"Good night," Lindsay called after him.

"Good night," he said without looking back.


	15. Chapter 15

_December, 2003_

"How'd it go?" Lindsay asked, standing up as Michael walked into the waiting room at the police station. After their mother had once again succeeded in pitting them against each other, they'd hatched a plan to get back at her. Lindsay had recently seen some flowers at Lucille's penthouse with a note saying, 'Can't wait for the pageant! Your hopeful lawyer,' leading them to believe that Lucille and Barry were going to the pageant together on a date. So they'd used the money they were going to use for Lindsay's credit card debt to get their father out of prison for the Living Classics Pageant so he'd catch them, getting back at their mother and allowing them to hire Wayne Jarvis instead of Barry. However, their plan had unraveled when it turned out that Lucille was actually dating Wayne Jarvis and George Sr. had attempted to escape from the pageant so they couldn't bring him back to prison.

"Well, the bad news is you're in debt again," Michael said. Lindsay sighed. "And we never busted Mom, _and_ we're stuck with Barry. The good news is we've been asked never to participate in the pageant again."

Lindsay laughed. "Well, at least we're still pals, huh?"

"Yeah…" Michael said. "That's not really doing it for me this time."

He turned and left. Lindsay thought this over. "Yeah," she agreed, shrugging. It had been nice to be so close to him over the last two weeks, but it had started to feel weird. It was probably best if things just stayed normal between them.


	16. Chapter 16

_February, 2004_

"This is so _fun_ ," Lindsay gushed to Lucille, spilling a little of her drink as she moved her hand for emphasis. She, Michael, Gob, and Tobias had tried to stage an intervention for Lucille to convince her to get help with her drinking problem. However, the effort had derailed when they'd all gotten drunk themselves in preparation for the intervention in case she was angry. But although the intervention hadn't worked, it had turned into one of the Bluth family's better parties.

Lucille laughed. "You see, a little alcohol never hurt anybody."

"Yeah, I dunno why we did this intervention thing. I think it was Michael's idea."

"I should've known," Lucille chuckled. "You know, my supposed 'drinking problem' is the only reason he exists in the first place." Lindsay burst out laughing. "Come to think of it, that's the only reason any of you kids are here," Lucille mused. "Except you, of course. Though I think I might have had a little too much to drink when I signed the paperwork."

"Paperwork?" Lindsay said, confused.

"Hospital bills," Lucille said quickly. "When you were born. When you and Michael were born. Maybe this alcohol actually is getting to me."

Lindsay laughed. "Me too. This is so fun though, we should do stuff like this more often."

"I'm all for that. I'd better get going, though, I'm supposed to meet Lucille Austero for dinner."

"No, stay a little longer," Lindsay protested. It was nice to be getting along with her mother for once.

"Sorry, dear, I have to get going," she said, and got up.

Lindsay leaned back against the couch dejectedly as she left and took another sip of her drink. She looked over to the dining room. Gob was sitting at the table sobbing uncontrollably and Michael seemed to be trying to comfort him while wearing what appeared to be a Franklin wig.

"And you don't care about Franklin, and you don't care about me!" Gob was saying, using Franklin's track suit to wipe his tears.

"Come on, Gob, that's not true," Michael said, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Hey, Michael, get over here," Lindsay said. She wanted someone to talk to now that her mother had left.

"Oh, hey, Linds," Michael said, and got up and went over to her, looking grateful for the excuse.

"Oh, sure!" Gob said angrily. "Just leave me here, like you always do!"

"No, Gob…"

"No, I'm done with you!" Gob said, getting unsteadily to his feet. "I'm done with alla you! Come on, Franklin, we're goin' to bed," he said, and stormed off to the bedroom with Franklin, slamming the door behind him. Lindsay looked over at Michael, eyebrows raised. He sighed exasperatedly and collapsed onto the couch next to her.

"Jeez, what'd you do?" she said.

"He wanted to make Franklin the official Bluth Company mascot," he sighed, his words slurred.

She laughed. "Speaking of Franklin, is that a Franklin wig?"

"Oh, yeah," he laughed, taking it off. "Long story."

She laughed again. "How much've you have to drink?"

" _Way_ too much," he laughed.

"Now your hair's all messed up. Here," she said, leaning over him and trying to fix his hair.

"Thanks," he said.

"Don't, I think I made it worse," she laughed. She looked over at Buster and Tobias. Buster was banging loudly on the piano and Tobias was dancing giddily, wearing only his cut-offs. "So… Not a very successful intervention," she said.

Michael laughed. "Not exactly. I forgot we were even doin' that."

"Might be even worse'n the one you did for me in high school."

He laughed. "Oh yeah. Tha' was a disaster."

"Yeah… It was sweet, though." She rested her head on the couch and smiled at him. "You were so sweet back then."

He laughed. "But not anymore?"

"Hm…" she said. "No, you're still sweet. Not as much, though."

He laughed. She laughed too, then lifted her head from the couch and looked at Tobias, who was now sitting on the floor crying. She groaned.

"My husband," she said, waving a hand at him.

"Oh wow," Michael laughed.

"God, that's annoying," she said, referring to Buster's piano playing. "Let's go to the kitchen."

"Okay," Michael said.

Lindsay got up, struggling to keep her balance on her heels. Michael followed her into the kitchen. She crossed the kitchen and closed the other door to block out the noise. Michael closed the door they'd come through.

"You look nice tonight," he said as she closed the shutters too. "I like that dress on you. And your hair like that…"

"Thank you," she said, turning around, feeling a little fluttering sensation. "You're lookin' pretty good yourself," she added playfully. Michael laughed. She walked past him to the pantry. "Now let's see what Mom has in here," she said. "Ah, here we go." She picked up a bottle of Cloudmir vodka.

"You're getting _another_ drink?" Michael said.

"Yeah, why not?" she laughed. She poured two glasses and gave one to him. He laughed and took it. She raised her glass.

"To… To…" she said, trying to think of something to toast to.

"To Mom's sobriety," Michael said.

Lindsay laughed. "To Mom's sobriety," she agreed and clinked her glass with his and took a drink.

She sat down on the floor and leaned against the cabinets, really feeling fuzzy now. Michael sat down with her. Lindsay fumbled with the buckle on her shoe. She could still hear Tobias crying loudly in the living room.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Remind me why I married him?"

"Uh… I was never actually clear on that…" he said. She laughed. "No, he's a good guy, Lindsay."

"Yeah, fantastic," she muttered sarcastically, finally managing to get her shoes off. "D'you know how long it's been since we had sex?"

"I thought you did two weeks ago."

"Oh yeah," she said. Two weeks earlier Tobias had managed to overcome his never-nudism for the first time in three years. "Doesn't count though, he just lay there."

"I don' need any details."

" _And_ he cried."

"He _cried_?"

" _Yes._ How d'you think that makes me feel?"

Michael sighed. "I don't think it's about you, Lindsay. I think he's just…not attracted to women."

"I know," Lindsay said gloomily. "Wish I'd known that before I married him. And the never-nude thing. D'you know when I found out about _that_? _On our honeymoon._ "

Michael raised his eyebrows. "How'd you not know before then?"

"Because," she said theatrically. "He said, _he wanted to wait until marriage._ "

"Oh wow," Michael laughed. "Okay, I can see why you're mad."

"Thank you!" she said. "Ugh, it's been so _loonnggg…_ " She leaned against him and nuzzled his shoulder.

"Okay, Lindsay…"

She sat up and took another sip of her drink. She already felt like she was a glass or two away from collapsing, but she really wanted to get totally obliterated right now.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it's been a while for me too," Michael said.

Lindsay laughed. "Really? How long?"

"Uh…" he said. "I think it was…three years ago?"

Lindsay guffawed. "Wow. You need to get laid."

Michael laughed. "Yeah, I really do…"

"You haven't been with anyone since your wife?"

"No," he sighed.

"What about Marta?"

"No, we never did. We were _so close_ and then Mom had to call me right then and ruin it all."

"Well, the last time I had sex with someone who didn't cry afterwards was…" she said, struggling to focus her clouded mind enough to the do the math. "Five years ago? Jesus."

Michael smirked. "He didn't cry five years ago?"

"No, I had an affair."

Michael's eyes widened.

"Well, don't look at me like that!" she said indignantly. "The man's psych—psycha… psy-cho-log-ic-ly, that's a hard word. Wha' was I saying?"

"You had an affair?" he said, clearly amused.

"Oh yeah. You can't blame me is the point."

"Really."

"Yeah!" she said, spilling her drink on herself as she waved her hand for emphasis again. "Oh, shit," she said, looking down at her legs and the hem of her dress, which were now covered in vodka. She groaned and got unsteadily to her feet. Michael stood up too as she got a washcloth and ran it under the sink.

"So who was the affair with?" Michael asked, walking over to her.

She laughed. "His name was Paul," she said, wiping her legs and dress with the washcloth. "He was _really_ sexy. Rich, successful businessman type."

"Did Tobias ever find out?"

"No."

"Jesus."

"Shut up," she groaned. "He prolly assumed, I left him for a little while."

"So what happened? Why'd you stop?"

She sighed. "He dumped me."

"Aww…"

"Yeah. Ugh, five years. We both needa get laid." She laughed and looked up at him. "Wait a minute…" she said jokingly. "I might just have a solution."

Michael's eyes widened. He laughed and looked away, his face turning red. "Okay, I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that…"

She laughed, enjoying making him uncomfortable. "Yeah, it's a one hundred percent… hundred… Shit, what was it? Hundred percent all-natural family band… _Family_ solution, ha!"

"Oh _god_ ," Michael laughed.

"So whadya say?" she said, leaning back against the counter opposite from him and running her hands over her body and pushing her breasts up. "You want some of this?" Michael doubled over laughing. "Yeah?" she said.

"No," he said through his laughter, shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, no."

"Oh, come on, I know you do," she said teasingly."

"What?" he laughed.

"You've _always_ been attracted to me."

"Oh my god, _one time_ when I was…eighteen, and you won't let me forget—"

"You still are, I can tell."

"Really," he said sarcastically.

"Yeah."

"And what makes you think that?"

"'You look nice tonight, I like that dress on you…'"

"Shut up," he laughed, his face turning even redder. "I can't give you a…fuckin', compliment without you…misinterpreting it?"

"Come on, I know how you feel about me," she said stepping towards him and running her hand up his arm.

"Whoa, we're doin' this now?" he said as she pressed her body against his, pinning him to the counter.

"Mm hm," she laughed. "Now admit it you, you love this."

He laughed uncomfortably. "Okay, that's enough."

"Not until you admit it," she said, thinking she probably had gone too far, but she was having too much fun to stop.

"Lindsay…"

"Come on," she said teasingly, loving to see him look so confused. "Give your sister a kiss."

He raised his eyebrows and laughed weakly. She saw his eyes drift down to her lips and then to the kitchen door behind her. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he actually considering it? She stood frozen as he slowly raised his hand and put his finger under her chin, then tilted her face up towards him and kissed her softly on the lips.

He pulled away and laughed like it had been a joke. "Happy?" he said.

She just stared at him, trying to process what had just happened. His smile slid away when he saw the look on her face. His own face turned red.

"Sorry, tha' was inappropriate, I shouldn't have—" he started to say, but before he could finish she kissed him again.

He stood still for a moment as she kissed him, then hesitantly parted his lips slightly and kissed her back. They pulled away and stared at each other in shock. She looked searchingly into his eyes, trying to figure out what was going through his head. She could tell he was thinking the same thing about her. Then they kissed again, a little less hesitantly than before, though there was still a cautious tension between them. He caught her lower lip in between his lips and caressed her face, his other hand on her waist. She could barely move, none of it felt like it was real. It was only because they were drunk, she'd gotten over all that years ago, but god, he still had feelings for her, after all this time…

They jumped at the sound of the door opening. Lindsay immediately pulled away from him and stepped back just as Buster walked into the kitchen, singing something about Mother's Day Eve to himself.

"Oh," he said when he saw them. "Hey, brother and sister."

They didn't say anything, both too stunned to speak. Buster walked between them to the fridge and got himself a juice box, then left the kitchen. Lindsay looked up at Michael, her heart still racing. He looked back at her, the shock and confusion plain on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and quickly followed Buster out of the kitchen.


	17. Chapter 17

_February, 2004_

Michael sleepily opened his eyes, his head aching. He realized confusedly that he was in Buster's room. He looked over and saw Buster lying next to him.

"Oh, hey, Buster," he said.

"Hey, brother."

"Wha… What happened?" he asked. He had no memory of how he'd gotten there. All he knew was that he was feeling more hungover than he'd ever felt in his life.

"We had a party last night and you wanted to sleep here."

"Oh. Yeah… Yeah, that's right," he said, remembering that he and his siblings had tried to stage an intervention for their mother but had gotten drunk and had a party instead. He couldn't remember anything else, though. He had a vague, lingering sense of shame, like he'd gone to bed regretting something, but he couldn't remember what it was. He was sure he'd done something embarrassing. He should stop drinking like this, it wasn't healthy.

He sat up and groaned as a wave of nausea hit him. He got up, wanting to get a drink of water to help the dryness in his mouth. He walked into the hallway, stepping over Tobias, who was sleeping on a pile of couch cushions and blankets on the floor. He went into the living room and saw Lindsay sprawled out across the couch asleep, wearing the same black dress she'd been wearing last night.

He stopped. He'd just been struck by a fleeting memory of kissing her in the kitchen. He felt a flash of panic, along with some more nausea. Was that what he had been ashamed of? No, that couldn't be it, even if he was drunk he would never… It must have been another dream, that was all, but it had felt so real… And she was wearing the same dress, he remembered noticing it last night. He shuddered. What if they'd done more than kiss? They couldn't have, he would have remembered it, wouldn't he? He wasn't even sure if he'd kissed her, the dress didn't mean anything. It would make sense that she'd be wearing the same thing in his dream that he'd last seen her in.

He went to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. He saw two empty glasses and a bottle of vodka on the floor. He remembered sitting there with her. That must have really happened, the glasses were there. And there was a washcloth in the sink. Hadn't she spilled her drink on herself? His heart started beating faster. If those parts were real, wouldn't that mean the kissing was real too? And what if she remembered it, what if she told everyone when she woke up? No, she wouldn't do that. He didn't even know if she would remember it, or if there was anything to remember in the first place. He looked back at her sleeping on the couch in the living room, trying to convince himself it was all in his head, but he was having more and more trouble believing it.


	18. Chapter 18

_February, 2004_

Michael stood in the kitchen of the model home mixing himself a Bloody Mary. He, Lindsay, and Tobias had returned home and Lindsay was currently asleep upstairs. He'd spent the drive home surreptitiously watching her for any signs that she remembered anything from last night, but if she did she was doing a good job of hiding it. He was starting to lose hope that it had been a dream, but if Lindsay didn't remember anything he could just move on like nothing had happened. He couldn't be sure, though, he'd only said a few words to her that morning, as she'd slept through the drive home.

"Ugh, I am never drinking again."

Michael looked up and saw Lindsay coming down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and sat down heavily at the counter.

"Are you making a Bloody Mary?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Can I have some?"

"Sure," he said, getting another glass for her. He poured in the tomato juice mixture and mixed in the vodka, discreetly glancing up at her as he did. He still couldn't see any sign that she remembered anything inappropriate happening between them the previous night.

"So how are _you_ feeling?" she asked dryly.

He laughed. "Awful. You?"

"Same. Let's never try to do an intervention again."

"Mm," he agreed emphatically, sliding her glass over to her. She took it and drank. He drank his own. He hesitated.

"So how much do you remember from last night?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light and joking.

She laughed. "Nothing. The whole thing's a black hole. What about you?"

Michael inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "Same here," he said.


	19. Chapter 19

_February, 2006_

"Hello!" Michael said as he came into the penthouse. The family had gathered there for a celebratory brunch, catered by a local restaurant, Skip Church's. They were celebrating the fact that the Bluth Company had been upgraded from 'don't buy' to 'risky' on _Mad Money_.

"Risky! Risky! Risky!" everyone chanted when they saw him. Buster did a little dance, cutting the fingers off his prosthetic hand with knife he was holding in the process. He'd lost his hand a year earlier when he was attacked by a loose seal while swimming in the ocean.

"Oh," he said, looking down at the severed plastic fingers on the floor.

"Look at that, Buster, you would have lost a hand anyway," Michael said.

Lucille tapped her glass. "I'd like to make an announcement," she said. The family quieted down and looked at her. "We need to finish the party we started three years ago. Finally name Michael CEO of a thriving company!" she said, raising her glass.

Everyone cheered. Lindsay joined in, smiling at Michael. She still would have preferred that her father be in charge of the Bluth Company, as it would be easier for her to get company money when she needed it, but he was still under house arrest and Michael had pretty much been in charge for the last three years anyway, and she was glad that he would finally have the official title he wanted so much.

"We'll prove to the world that nothing can tear apart the Bluth family," Lucille continued. "In fact, I've already rented the same boat."

"Oh, I'm not comfortable near the ocean since the seal attack," Buster said. "The ocean is my second biggest fear."

"Good, don't come. I need to be rubbing elbows, not working your fork," Lucille said, taking a sip of her champagne.

"We'll find a new venue," Michael said, patting Buster's shoulder.

"Oh, and before I forget," Lucille said. "No magic, Gob."

There was no answer. Michael looked around. "Where is Gob?"

"Oh, who knows?" George Sr. said, putting some bacon on his plate. "I don't even know where he lives."

"He doesn't live at Michael's?" Buster asked.

"I've always pictured him in a lighthouse," Tobias mused.

"Doesn't matter," Michael said. "Mom, I'm just really flattered that you're willing to do this. And I was half worried that you'd all be eager to sell your shares and cash out."

Everyone looked at him.

"Wait, we can do that?" Lindsay said.

"Yeah, but Stan Sitwell's always had a wild hair to buy this business."

"It's the only hair he's got," Lucille said snidely. "What?" she said when Michael looked at her. "He's an alpaca!"

"He has alopecia," Michael said exasperatedly. "And Lindsay, you know, if we did sell, it would only mean, like what, two million dollars each?"

"Two million! Two million! Two million!" the family cheered.

"That sounds like a lot more than it actually is, you know, you've already spent twelve hundred dollars on eggs," Michael said. "And that would be it forever. Keep in mind, we are building something that is not only for our kids, it's also for George Michael and Maeby's kids, too."

"W-w-wait, what, we—we can't have kids, what's the matter—what are you say—" George Michael spluttered. "It's not even an option really."

"Well, eventually you'll want to."

"Sure, I may want to, you know, now, I—I—it doesn't matter, it's just, either way I won't do anything about it. Come on!" He laughed nervously.

"Michael's right, and I, for one, won't go back to wondering whether there's going to be enough food on the table," Lucille said as the caterers set a fourth Skip's Scramble on the table, causing it to creak ominously.

"Whoa, might want to start worrying about the table," Michael said.

Lindsay got up and walked over to him.

"It's fine for you to say, 'don't sell,' but I'm going to be forty in three years, you know?" she said. In the last few months she'd become determined to divorce Tobias and marry someone else before her fortieth birthday.

"You know, being twins, our birthdays are pretty close to one another," Michael said.

"Yeah, but a forty-year-old woman has as much chance of getting married as she does of getting attacked by a shark—"

Buster cried out in terror. They looked over at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were going to say seal," he said.

"Or seal," Lindsay said.

"Oh god!"

"Lindsay, you have nothing to worry about, you're a beautiful woman, any man would be lucky to have you," Michael said.

Lindsay smiled at him, twisting her hair around her finger. She loved when he said things like this. She liked to think that it was an unconscious expression of his attraction to her. She knew all that had ended a long time ago, but she could tell he still had feelings for her, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.

"Oh, let's not forget, you're already married," Michael said.

Lindsay glared at him, her affection instantly evaporating. She stalked off in annoyance. She hated how Michael was always judging her for not putting in more effort to make things work with Tobias. She'd put in sixteen years of effort and it hadn't done any good. Anyone could see that their marriage wasn't worth saving, including Michael if he could get over himself long enough to actually think about it. But she didn't care what he thought, she was getting out of this marriage and into a new one before she turned forty no matter what it took.


	20. Chapter 20

_February, 2006_

Lindsay sat in the parking lot of Sitwell Enterprises in the staircar, which was growing dark in the fading evening light outside, trying to get her emotions under control enough to drive home.

After the brunch, she'd gone over to the rival housing company to tell Stan Sitwell that she was not going to sell her shares, and to inquire as to how much money he would give her if she did. During the meeting, he'd accidentally let slip that she was adopted, and a week away from her fortieth birthday. She wasn't worried about being adopted—in fact, she was thrilled to learn that she wasn't a Bluth. It was the part about being three years older that was hard to stomach. She'd caused quite a scene when she'd learned this information. After the security guards had carried her out of the building she'd called her mother, who had confirmed that they had indeed adopted her out from under the Sitwells when she was three years old as part of their ongoing, one-sided war against their competitor.

She tried to look on the bright side, anything to block out the heavy feeling in her stomach from having the last, precious three years of her thirties unexpectedly stolen from her. She wasn't a Bluth, she was only connected to this twisted family by some cruel accident of fate. Maybe that was why her mother had always treated her so cruelly—no, not her mother, she was just some evil woman who had taken her from a nice, loving family just to stick it to them, ruining her life in the process. She wasn't related to any of those nutcases, not Gob, not Buster…

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized—she and Michael weren't related. She sat open-mouthed for a moment as the realization sunk in. All that drama when they were younger and the whole time they could have been together, there wouldn't have even been anything wrong with it. Her heart started beating quickly. All that misery and heartache, those years of thinking she was crazy, and the whole time he was just someone she'd grown up with, nothing more than that.

They could still be together, the only reason he'd been pretending not to feel anything for her all these years was that he thought she was his sister, but if that wasn't a problem… But she didn't want to be with him, did she? She'd gotten over that more than a decade ago, she'd sworn to herself she would never go down that road again. But it was only because it had been too painful to keep loving him when he was determined to never show her any love in return. She knew he still had feelings for her, and now there was nothing in the way of them being in a relationship, a real, public relationship. Hell, they could even get married, it wasn't against the law now.

Did she want that, though? She really didn't feel that way about him anymore, at least not like she used to. It wasn't like when she was younger, when she'd felt like he was the only person she could ever be happy with. Still, she could see herself marrying him. He was a good guy, and he loved her, he actually loved her for who she was. And though she hated to admit it to herself, she did still find him attractive. God, their lives would have been so different if they'd only known this when they were teenagers. They could have gotten married. They could have gotten married right out of high school, there wouldn't have been any point in waiting, they were so in love with each other at the time. And she would have never married Tobias, and he never would have given Tracey a second look. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered him telling her he was getting married, those months spent waiting desperately by the phone after he'd left for college, and none of it would have happened if they'd only known.

She suddenly let out a cry of rage. Her mother had known. She'd known the whole time that she was adopted and she'd never bothered to tell them. She'd known there was something between them, Lindsay could still remember the look on her face when she'd given her that wedding invitation all those years ago. A lump rose in her throat and her eyes filled with more tears. She'd seen her life falling apart in the two years after he left, she'd known how she was suffering and she could have stopped it all, all she had to do was tell them. But she'd kept it to herself, just one more way to torture her daughter without her even knowing she was doing it.

But she'd undo it all now, she'd marry him. She'd marry him in the next month, a week maybe, before she turned forty. That had been the plan anyway, she'd been trying to find someone to marry before she turned forty. Yes, she could see herself marrying him. It wouldn't be all that different from her life now, they'd already been living together for the last three years. But they'd kick Tobias out of the house, and the kids too, they were graduating soon, weren't they? And they'd sleep in the same bed every night, they could even have sex. Jesus, they really could, it wouldn't even be incest. She felt a warm rushing sensation at the thought. They could do it tonight, she could go home right now and tell him. Yes, tonight when everyone was asleep, and then she'd ask him to marry her. It was all coming together, she'd still get married before she turned forty, she'd undo the wrong her mother had done to her, and she'd leave the last twenty years behind her, marry him like she would have done years ago if she'd only known. She started the car and headed home.


	21. Chapter 21

_February, 2006_

Michael lay in bed, gradually waking from a fitful half-sleep and turning over the events of the day again in his head. He'd been tossing and turning all night worrying about the future of the company, what he would do if too many family members sold their shares, and, most of all, George Michael's confession earlier that day that he'd made out with his cousin, Maeby. God, it was just like him and Lindsay in high school. At least they were only cousins, not twin siblings, but it was still very disturbing. Was the universe trying to punish him or something by making his son live out the same scenario with her daughter?

He rolled over, then sat up with a start when he realized someone was lying next to him. He turned on the lamp and saw Lindsay lying awake and looking up at the ceiling.

"Are you drunk?" he asked.

"A little," she replied. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, I'll say," he said, turning away from her and putting his face in his hand. "Are you aware that your daughter and my son have been getting physical? I mean, can you imagine anything more inappropriate?"

She suddenly grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back onto the bed, then climbed on top of him.

"Hey!" he said in surprise. "I guess you can, what are you doing?"

"I'm not your sister," she said breathlessly.

"What?"

"I'm adopted!"

"Hey, Lindsay—"

"And I'm three years older," she said with less excitement.

"Hey, there must be some mistake."

"No, Mom confirmed it," she said, smiling down at him and pulling at his shirt. "And I know you've always found me attractive. You've been telling me that for the last…forty years!"

Michael pushed her off of him and got up off the bed. "Please, Lindsay, this is crazy," he said. She stood up too and wrapped her arm around him. "Hey!" he said, trying to pull away.

"If I don't get divorced and remarried in the next month I'm gonna sell those shares and I'm gonna cash out!" she said, pulling him closer. "So what d'you say?"

Michael looked back at her in disbelief. Had she just said she wanted to marry him? She must be mistaken, of course she was his sister.

"I'm just not that into…older women," he said, thinking that would get rid of her if nothing else did. Sure enough, she let go of him. He started to walk away, still not entirely sure what had just happened but relieved that she'd let him go.

" _YOU BASTARD!"_ she screamed.

"Ah!" he yelled as she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to the ground.


	22. Chapter 22

_February, 2006_

Michael sat at the computer checking his email, struggling to focus as he was distracted by thoughts of what happened with Lindsay the previous night. Earlier that day he'd gone to his mother and asked her about it, and she'd confirmed that Lindsay was indeed adopted. Michael was struggling to wrap his head around the idea. He knew it didn't matter, but it was still a shock. His whole life he'd thought they were twins, and now it turned out they weren't even related. Even more unsettling was how Lindsay had reacted to the news. He'd had no idea her feelings for him were still strong enough that she'd want to sleep with him the second she found they weren't related.

It was still wrong, of course. They may not be biologically related, but she was still his sister. They'd grown up together, and they'd always thought they were siblings until now. If they actually did enter some kind of relationship, everyone they knew would be scandalized. Not that he wanted to, of course, that had all ended when he was a teenager. Thank god they hadn't known they weren't related at the time. He didn't know what would have happened if they had. It did make him feel slightly better about what had transpired though, knowing it hadn't technically been incestuous. Maybe deep down some part of him had sensed that she wasn't actually his sister and that was why it had never bothered him as much as it should.

And she wanted to get _married_. It was only because she wanted to marry someone in general though, she'd been talking about that for months. Was it even legal? He doubted it, even adopted siblings probably couldn't marry each other. She must have been mistaken about that.

He hesitated. He glanced around him to make sure no one was there, then opened a new tab on the computer and did a something search of 'can adopted siblings marry.' It wasn't because he wanted to marry her, no way in hell. He just wanted to confirm that she'd been mistaken that it was legal.

He quickly scanned the results, feeling very uncomfortable as he did. He gleaned that adopted siblings could not marry in the United States, but that laws concerning sexual relations between them varied by state. Unable to contain his curiosity, he searched for 'california incest laws.' He clicked on the first result and looked through the page for information about adopted siblings. He found that sex between adopted siblings was legal in California, but that for biological siblings the penalty was up to three years in jail and a lifetime on the sex offender list, even if it was consensual.

Michael closed the tab and cleared the search history, feeling a little sick. They'd gotten so close when they were teenagers. Of course, no one would have ever found out about it and she was adopted anyway, but he hadn't known that at the time. He couldn't help but think that the penalty was a little harsh. He knew it was disgusting, but it had clearly been consensual and hardly seemed deserving of a prison sentence. Maybe that was fair, though, maybe he and everyone else in this goddamn family were just too messed up to realize it.

"Well, I see you've filled my seat hole."

Michael jumped and turned to see Tobias standing in the doorway.

"What?" he said, startled. How long had he been there?

"Wow, you are white as a sheet!" Tobias said. "The computer. I need it."

"Oh. Sure, here you go," Michael said shakily, getting up.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just a lot going on, you know, with the party."

"Don't I know it!" he said sitting down at the computer. "Let me tell you, getting those Hot Cops to fill your opening is next to impossible."

"Opening?" Michael repeated.

"For the party. We've got a whole stretch of time with no performers if they don't show, but they are taking their sweet time in responding to my emails."

"Right," Michael said, remembering that he'd put Tobias in charge of planning the shareholder's party so he could give him a Bluth Company salary and convince him not to sell his shares. He quickly left the room, feeling immensely grateful that Tobias didn't seem to have seen anything.


	23. Chapter 23

_February, 2006_

Michael climbed aboard the _C-Word_ , Gob's boat that George Michael had just taken off in during the shareholder's party after he'd learned that Gob was dating his ex-girlfriend, whose name Michael couldn't remember at the moment. He went up to the cabin, where he found George Michael driving the boat.

"George Michael, what are you doing, where are you going?" he said.

"I can't stay here," George Michael said. "Ann's moved on, Maeby's my cousin. We both know that's not an option."

Michael hesitated. He'd spent the last two days debating whether or not he should tell him, but he was going to find out eventually either way. "Buddy, Maeby is not your cousin," he said reluctantly.

George Michael looked over at him. "What?"

"Yeah, I found out a couple days ago. Aunt Lindsay was adopted."

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Because you can't be with Maeby. You're fifteen and so inevitably the relationship is going to fall apart, and then what do you do?" he said, thinking about all the drama that had unfolded between him and Lindsay when they were teenagers. Their relationship had never completely recovered, they still weren't as close as they'd been as kids. "She might not be a blood relative but she is still family, and that's a bond that lasts forever. You don't wanna rock that boat."

Suddenly the boat rocked violently back and forth.

"What the hell was that?" Michael said, holding the chair for support. He heard the horn of the Queen Mary blaring along with the sound of police sirens. He looked out the window and saw police boats chasing the Queen Mary, which was now sailing off into the harbor.

"Lucille Bluth!" one of the police officers said through a megaphone. "Please pull over and step away from the historic ship!"

"I think Gangie's trying to make a break for it," Michael said.

"Well, I guess we should go back. Family sticks together, huh?" George Michael said, reaching for the lever to turn the boat around.

"Yeah," Michael said, stopping his hand. "On the other hand, we do have a full tank of gas, a house in Cabo, and five hundred grand in cashier's checks." He sat down in the driver's seat with George Michael and put his arm around him. "Let's say we give them no choice but to keep themselves all together for a while," he said, and pushed the lever to continue out to sea.


	24. Chapter 24

_February, 2006_

"They are persecuting me! It was an accident! This is ridiculous!" Lucille said to the police station at large, where the family had been taken after Lucille's failed escape attempt from the S.E.C. in the _Queen Mary_. Now Lindsay was soaking wet and in a very foul mood from her fall into the ocean after the boat had tipped onto its side. Lucille turned to her. "If I'd told them we were taking a bunch of gays out there to get married, they'd have thrown me a parade," she complained. Her eyes lit up. "Let's tell them we were taking a bunch of gays to get married!"

"Yeah, I don't think your record on that issue is going to back that up, Mom," Lindsay said testily. Her mother had recently protested gay marriage in an offensive and slightly incestuous cover photo with Buster for the _Balboa Bay Window_.

"Fine, we'll say that they took it on a joy ride. And you have no right to criticize me. At least I was able to turn my queen around."

"None taken," said Tobias, who had just walked in. "Oh!" he said when he saw the Hot Cops, who were currently dressed as hot seamen, and hurried over to talk to them. Lindsay glared at Lucille.

"You cannot say one nice thing to your daughter, can you?" she said.

"Adopted daughter," Lucille corrected. Lindsay's eyes widened. "And that's not true."

A police officer walked into the room.

"Can I have the Bluth family over here, please?" he said, gesturing to an area labeled with a paper that read, 'BLUTHS.' "And over here, the victims of the Bluth family?" he said, pointing to an area labeled 'VICTIMS.'

Lindsay looked at the two signs. Suddenly she felt like the second label fit her much better than the first. She walked over to the victims area.

"No, Lindsay, you're going to the wrong area," Tobias said, grabbing her arm. "Kenny, Chet, Curtis, Mike, Bix, and Gator are over here," he said, gesturing at the Hot Cops. "We should be over here at the Bluth area with Gob and Buster and, uh… uh… ugh, your brother, uh…"

"Michael?" Lindsay said.

"Michael! Yes," he laughed. "Sorry, I was thinking of Mike, the hot seaman. No, where is Michael?"

"He doesn't matter, he's not my brother," Lindsay said bitterly. "This isn't my family. No, I've spent years—"

"Yes!" Gob interrupted, running in between them. "Got my yes! I got that big yes."

Lindsay watched him run away, confused, then decided she really didn't care what he was talking about. "I've spent years trying to fit into this family, and it's not me," she continued. "My life is a fallacy."

"Oh…" Tobias said comfortingly, then broke into song. "…is that a gal I see? No, it's just a _fallaceeee_!" he sang, spinning around. "We loved that! Where is that from?"

It was from nothing, but it made her realize something else.

"I don't know if there's a right time to say this," she said. "But this marriage of ours, it hasn't been working. Yeah, there is nothing keeping us together. It's time to give up our dreams if they're not working. You know, your acting career, this marriage that everyone thinks is a sham because you're gay."

"W-w-I-I'm sorry," Tobias stammered. "Everyone thinks I'm gay?"

"Well, I mean, it's kind of a running joke in the family," Lindsay said, surprised he hadn't realized. "I mean, you know that, right? 'Cause of the misleading way you talk sometimes."

"You're saying the way I talk makes me sound gay?" he said disbelievingly. He laughed. "When in the last year have I said anything remotely misleading?" Lindsay gave him an incredulous look. "Is this because I want to be an actor, and all the leading men in Hollywood are gay?"

"I don't think that all the leading men in Hollywood are gay."

"Oh, honey."

Lindsay sighed. "Look, we're chasing things that aren't real. Maybe we need to go out there and— and find out what we're mean to do."

Tobias's smile faded. "I…" he said. "I believe we're thinking the same thing."

Lindsay nodded. "We should end it."

"Let's give it another shot!" Tobias said at the same time. Lindsay looked at him in surprise. "To the head, kill it," he added quickly. "Yes."

Lindsay turned to leave. Tobias suddenly lunged forward and kissed her shoulder. She ignored this and kept walking until he stopped and scurried away. She looked back at him, confused and slightly repulsed, then sat down heavily on a bench.

She'd been struggling over the last two days not to admit to herself how lost she felt, but something about falling into the ocean when her adoptive mother tried to escape from the police in a historic ship had made her realize she needed to make a change. In a few days she would be forty, and she felt just as miserable as she had seven years ago when she'd thought she was thirty.

This was all compounded by the hurt and embarrassment she was still feeling from Michael's rejection two days earlier. She didn't know why she'd thought he would marry her. Of course he still wouldn't be okay with it, even if they weren't biologically related. She'd just been in such a state after having three years stolen from her, and she'd grabbed onto the possibility of marrying him and turning her life around like a lifeline. Now he would think she'd still been in love with him this whole time. It was so frustrating, because she hadn't been, she really had gotten over him years and years ago. Why had she let herself think about him that way again? Hadn't she learned that it always left her feeling worse than before?

She didn't want to see him for a while. She needed to get away from all of them, she needed to find out who she was, who she would have been if she hadn't been raised in this crazy family. She didn't know what she had in mind yet, but she knew she needed some kind of change, she couldn't keep living her life the way it was.


	25. Chapter 25

_May, 2012_

Michael walked unsteadily through the crowd on the boardwalk, a styrofoam cup of donkey punch in his hand. It was the night of Cinco de Cuatro, a holiday on the fourth of May that his mother had invented back in the eighties when Rosa had taken the day off on Cinco de Mayo, intended to deplete the party supplies the Cinco de Mayo celebrants were relying upon.

Michael had had a rough six years. It had started out promisingly, when he'd left his family, traded his shares of the Bluth Company to Lucille Austero, started his own housing company, and finally finished the development of Sudden Valley. However, things had taken a turn when the housing market collapsed, forcing him to move into his son's dorm room at UC Irvine and borrow $700,000 from Lucille 2. Now he'd been mistakenly voted out of George Michael's dorm in a pack-first-no-talking-after scenario, Lucille 2 was demanding that he repay the money he'd borrowed from her, and he was about to do something desperate to get an extension.

He took one last drink of his donkey punch and threw it away, then fixed his hair and climbed up the stairs of the staircar, which now belonged to Lucille 2.

"Happy Cuatro, happy Cuatro!" she was saying from the top of the staircar. She was running for congress and trying hard to win over the Hispanic community. "Let's throw some more taco shells," she said to Sally Sitwell, who was working as her campaign manager. "Olé!"

"Sally, can I—I need to talk to Lucille 2, please," Michael said. Lucille 2 turned around.

"It's okay, Sally," she said. "I'll talk to Michael."

"I'll be downstairs," Sally said. "Kicking myself for not marrying you so many years ago," she said to Michael. Michael laughed sadly. He and Sally had had a brief relationship a while back.

"Michael, do you have something for me?" Lucille 2 said.

"Does bad news count?" Michael joked.

"There's that Bluth wit. Oh, I love your family."

She certainly had demonstrated that with many of the men in the family, even having fallen for a few, although some of that was the vertigo she suffered from. But she had gotten intimate with Buster and Gob and flirted with Michael on several occasions, which made him hopeful that his plan would work.

"I need the money I lent you," said Lucille 2. "I am in the middle of a campaign, I am desperate for the ad money."

"You're going to get it. I just need an extension."

"Why don't you go to your family?"

"I don't need them," he said automatically. He took a deep breath. "What I need is you."

Lucille 2 looked at him confusedly. "What are you suggesting?"

Michael hesitated. He had to get it over with, it was the only option left. He tried to lean in but kept tilting to the side instead, unable to bring himself to do it. This apparently made Lucille 2 dizzy and she promptly fell over.

"No, no!" Michael said, trying to catch her, but she fell onto the stairs, hitting her head on the rail in the process. "Oh, god," Michael said, rushing over to help her. This was not going according to plan. "Are you okay?" he said.

"Oh," she said. "Yes, yes, my head."

Michael saw that her forehead was bleeding. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," he said, helping her to her feet.

"Here, I have some band-aids," she said, getting them out of her purse. "I always keep them handy in case this happens," she said, putting her hand to her head. "Could you…?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Michael said, taking the band-aids from her and helping her put one on her forehead. "Okay, that was nasty."

"Oh, aren't you sweet?" she said. Michael chuckled, still feeling sick about what he was about to do. "Thank you," she said.

"Okay," Michael said, trying to psych himself up again. He leaned in again with difficulty. She tilted her head to the side ominously. "Don't tilt your head! Okay?" Michael said quickly, reaching out and holding her head still. He leaned in again to kiss her.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"I'm gonna have sex with you," he said. "For money."


	26. Chapter 26

_May, 2012_

Lindsay hurried through the crowd of Cinco de Cuatro celebrants on the boardwalk, trying to find Herbert Love, a Republican candidate for congress who she'd been in a secret relationship with for the last month. She'd just learned that her activist boyfriend Marky Bark was planning to blow up Herbert's boat during the Festival of Lights to embarrass him and his campaign and she was trying to find him to warn him.

She felt more than a little guilty about betraying Marky to save Herbert. She wanted to choose Marky. He was the kind of down-to-earth activist she'd always told herself she was looking for, while Herbert stood for everything she was against (not to mention the fact that he was married). She wished she could be content to run away with Marky and eschew the comforts of her privileged life and devote the rest of it to enacting social change, but as hard she tried she couldn't convince herself that it was what she wanted. She couldn't help it, she loved the way Herbert made her feel. She hadn't been with someone who made her feel so special and interesting and beautiful since Paul, and she couldn't bring herself to let it go again.

She suddenly spotted him in the crowd with his aide, David.

"Herbert!" she called out, running over to him, which was difficult in her tight dress and heels. She was also wearing a red wig as part of her disguise as 'Cindy Featherbottom.' She hadn't intended to use a false identity with him, but she'd been in disguise when she'd met him, as she'd been trying to sabotage his campaign speech at the time, and she hadn't found the right opportunity yet to tell him she wasn't who she'd said she was. She caught up with him and grabbed his arm. He turned around.

"Hi," she said. "Um, listen, I'm here undercover because I have some inside information that you really need to know about."

"Well, I've got some undercover information for you, too," he said. "I cannot be under the covers with you anymore."

Lindsay did a double take. That hadn't been what she'd expected to hear.

"It's over between us," he said. "My wife found out and I told her that there was nothing emotional, but that you were just a prostitute."

"I'm not a prostitute!" Lindsay said indignantly.

"Oh, I know, I know," he said quickly. "The point is, we are through." He handed her a wad of cash. "Here's a little severance package for servicing my package."

Lindsay tried to throw the money in his face, but she didn't have the muscle memory for it. He looked at David in confusion as Lindsay tried unsuccessfully to let go of the money.

"She's keeping it," David said.

"Oh, good!" Herbert said happily. "And don't forget to vote!" he added to Lindsay as he walked away.

"This isn't over!" Lindsay called furiously after him. "I'm not some taco you can throw into the bay!" She continued to try to the throw the money. "Why can't I do this?" she said to herself in frustration. Then she saw Maeby walking by.

"Oh, Maeby!" she said, surprised to see her.

"Hey," Maeby said, stopping.

"Oh, hey, I need to apologize to you," Lindsay said. She'd recently found a check Lucille had written for Maeby to get plastic surgery, and she'd given it to George Sr. "That check you've been looking for… I had it."

"Had?" Maeby repeated.

Lindsay held out the money Herbert Love had given her. "It's not everything, but here's some money," she said. Maeby smiled and tried to take it, but Lindsay still couldn't quite let go.

"Mom," Maeby said. Lindsay finally managed to open her fingers enough to let Maeby take the money from her. She sighed.

"It's dirty money anyway," she said. "Love gave it to me."

"He gave you money directly?" Maeby said incredulously.

"If you can believe that. Anyway, this is your money now, and if you _choose_ to do facial reconstruction… I mean, the nose, right?" she said, and walked away.

As she wandered through the crowd she thought again about Herbert Love. Had he really thought she was a prostitute this whole time? What had she done to make him think that? She'd thought he really cared about her, he'd been so nice to her, always complimenting her and buying her jewelry. Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away angrily. She didn't want to cry about him, she shouldn't have even been with him in the first place. She had to do something to get back at him, to show him he couldn't treat her like this. She started heading to the dock. It looked like she would be helping Marky after all.

She reached the dock and stopped when she saw Marky below, climbing into a rowboat with a suitcase that presumably contained the bomb to blow up Herbert's boat. Her heart sank. She knew she should go with him, she'd just suffered the consequences of following her heart instead of her head, and she had to get back at Herbert somehow. But she couldn't do it, she couldn't go to Mexico to be with Marky and his awful mother. She turned away, not sure where she was going now. Then she ran into her own awful mother.

"Mom!" she said in surprise. She'd thought she was still in prison for trying to steal the _Queen Mary_. "What are you doing here?"

"Lindsay, I thought you were a hooker!" Lucille laughed. "Again!"

"It's a wig. No one recognizes me in it."

"Oh, I recognized you. Let me rephrase that more kindly. I hear you're hooking now, with Herbert Love."

"It's called 'hooking up,'" Lindsay said, annoyed.

"Oh," Lucille said, clearly still mocking her.

"And yeah, I got a little sidetracked, but, I know who I am now," Lindsay said. "I'm back to being severely liberal."

"Well, like I said, the one time you were nice enough to visit me, you are who you are. A blonde, waspy Orange County princess who doesn't care about anything but herself, and that's okay."

"Ah, sarcasm," Lindsay said. Jesus, her mother was the last person she'd wanted to see right now.

"No," Lucille said. "I'm a Bluth, and so are you."

"You really know how to twist the knife," she said. "But you are right about one thing. I don't need this anymore."

She took off her wig and threw it in a nearby trash can, then walked away. She'd just gotten an idea—she would go work for Lucille 2's campaign. Lucille 2 had been something like a mother to her, except kind and loving and willing to let her eat. She'd invited Lindsay to work for her campaign a few months ago, but Lindsay had been busy at the time changing the world with Marky. But now she had the perfect opportunity to get back at her mother _and_ Herbert Love by working for their mutual rival.

She saw Lucille 2 in the crowd and went over to her.

"Lucille 2!" she said. "I've got great news. I'm finally available to become your campaign manager!"

"Oh, that's lovely, dear!" Lucille 2 said. "But I've found someone more qualified than you."

Lindsay looked over and saw her longtime rival, Sally Sitwell.

"Hello, Lindsay," she said.

"Sally," Lindsay said with a grimace. Sally gave her an air kiss.

"It's been awhile," she said.

"Mm," Lindsay said, and turned back to Lucille 2. "How is she more qualified than me?" she said under her breath.

"She has integrity! And look at this hair!" Lucille 2 said, touching Sally's long blonde hair. "Look at this beautiful long hair!"

Lindsay felt the back of her head. She'd cut her hair short a year earlier.

"I made you a banner," she said, feeling betrayed. "Look, I can really help this campaign!"

"You already have," Lucille 2 said. "More than you know. Now, give her a little show-and-tell," she said to Sally, and walked away.

"Show-and-tell?" Lindsay repeated, confused.

"Oh, she just means these photos of Herbert Love with a mystery redhead he's cheating on his wife with," she said, handing Lindsay some rather graphic photos of her with Herbert Love.

"Who took these?" Lindsay said, mortified.

"The first two were taken by the security camera in the Albertson's parking lot, and the third was left in the photo booth at the Ealing Club."

"God, that was a photo booth?"

"Mm hm."

"No one can know about this," Lindsay said desperately.

"Oh, I'm afraid they're going to. Lucille has copies, she wants to go viral with this. Herbert Love with his hooker? She'll win for sure."

"I can't let her do that."

"I don't think you can stop her," Sally said sinisterly. She suddenly gave her a cheerful smile. "Anyway, it was so great running into you again! Mwah!" she said, giving her another air kiss.

Lindsay stood there as Sally walked away, horrified. She'd already felt like this night couldn't get any worse, and now the world would view her as Love's prostitute.

"Herbert Love? Herbert Love?"

Lindsay looked over and saw Herbert's aide walking through the crowd, apparently looking for him.

"David!" she called out to him.

"Who are you?" he asked, apparently not recognizing her without the wig.

"I'm Cindy Featherbottom!"

"I've been looking for you!" he said. "Love's gone missing, and I've got to find someone to jump onto that stage and to show everyone here that we are the party that has complete con—con—complete con—con—con—con—complete con—"

"—trol?" Lindsay said.

"Giant!" he snapped back. "—trol!"

Lindsay suddenly realized she'd stumbled upon an opportunity to put a spin on the looming photos scandal.

"I'll do it!" she said.

"Oh my god, thank you, thank you! And I'm so sorry about that giant crack earlier. Okay, raise the mics, everybody! New speaker!"

Lindsay walked uncertainly up onto the stage. Like many before her she was about to accuse Herbert Love of sexual harassment. Better to let everyone think she was a victim than a prostitute. She went over to the microphone.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" she said nervously. The crowd quieted down a little. "I am Herbert Love's 'key advisor,'" she said with air quotes. Everyone cheered, apparently not picking up on the sarcasm. "Uh, thank you, but, uh…" she said, caught off guard. "Listen, I have a few things I'd like to tell you about Herbert Love. Love wants to put up a wall," she said, thinking she'd need to turn his supporters against him before she accused him of sexual harassment. But this seemed to have the opposite effect, as everyone cheered again. "No, no, no," she said. "I mean, not—not just any wall. A wall to keep out the Mexicans!" The crowd cheered even louder. "Oh, wow," she laughed nervously. "What a great crowd, uh… But no, you don't understand. He wants to separate, uh…"

A man suddenly jumped up onto the stage.

"Oh!" she said in surprise, then screamed as he ripped off her necklace.

" _Viva Mongolia!"_ he yelled, holding her necklace high in the air, then jumped off the stage.

"That's my necklace!" Lindsay said. "What, what's happening, what's—" People started screaming as a group of men turned over carts and snapped guitars in two. "What—what's going on?"

"The marauders, lady, a bunch of young Mexicans are taking over Cinco de Cuatro!" a woman in the crowd said to her. "They don't find it funny anymore!"

"But that was my necklace," Lindsay said, upset. Herbert Love had given her that necklace. "I mean, god," she said, feeling her neck where the necklace had been. "They don't belong here, we belong here," she muttered angrily.

The crowd erupted in cheers. She looked at them, surprised.

"I mean, someone should put up a wall," she ventured. They cheered even louder. "Yeah!" she said, nodding, happy to have some validation. "We should put up a wall! Put up this wall!"

The cheering grew louder. She looked out at them, surprised to find herself in this situation but intoxicated by the energy of the crowd and all the admiration directed towards her. She started to chant.

"Put. Up. This. Wall," she said dramatically. The crowd joined in.

" _Put! Up! This! Wall! Put! Up! This! Wall! Put! Up! This! Wall!"_

"My name is Lindsay Bluth!" she shouted, exhilarated. "And this is who I am!"

She realized cameras were flashing and started to pose for the pictures, waving and pointing to people in the crowd like she'd seen politicians do on TV.

"She's a game changer!" she heard David saying. She grinned at the praise.


	27. Chapter 27

_May, 2012_

Michael stood by the railing of the boardwalk, looking out at the dark water below, another cup of donkey punch in his hand. Lucille 2 had not accepted his offer, to put it mildly. Part of him was relieved of course, but he still owed her $700,000 and he was out of ideas for how to get it. And he still had to live with the shame of having attempted to prostitute himself.

How had things gotten so bad? He'd never thought his life would turn out like this. He thought back to when he was in college, how bright his future had looked. He'd been the success story of the family, the one at the elite school who would one day take over the company from his father, the only one of his siblings whose life wasn't falling apart. True, he'd accidentally gotten his girlfriend pregnant, but they'd pulled it off against the odds, they'd both graduated and had successful careers and provided a good home for their son.

A lump rose in his throat as he thought about Tracey. God, if Tracey could see him now. She would be horrified, not only by what he'd just tried to do, but also by the fact that he was sleeping with their son's girlfriend. But he hadn't known George Michael was the other guy until a few days ago, he hadn't meant for any of this to happen. He should have ended things with Rebel as soon as he'd found out, though. He still should end things, George Michael didn't know yet, but he couldn't do it. It was because she reminded him of Tracey. For the last ten years, he'd been trying desperately to find someone to marry, but every relationship just turned into a bigger disaster than the last. He just wanted a family again, he wanted to get back the life he'd had, and when he'd met a beautiful, red-haired woman just after the tenth anniversary of Tracey's death it had seemed like fate. George Michael was only twenty-one, he'd find someone else, but she was Michael's only chance.

But Rebel didn't even care about him like he cared about her. She'd made it clear from the beginning that all she was interested in was a casual relationship. Why couldn't he find someone who would love him? He did all the right things, but it was never enough. He wanted so much to undo all of this, to go back in time, back to when everything had been going so right for him and it had seemed like it would only ever get better.

"Michael?"

Michael turned around and saw Lindsay walking towards him from out of the crowd.

"Oh," he said, surprised to see her. "Hi, Lindsay."

"Oh my god, what happened?" she said.

"Wha—Oh yeah," he said, realizing she was talking about the black eye he'd gotten from a recent fight with Gob in a ball pit and the fresh bruises from when Lucille 2 had slapped him just now. "It's just, uh… Terrible week."

"Are you okay?" she said, glancing at the cup in his hand. He realized with embarrassment that he'd been slurring his words a little.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said, struggling to speak more clearly. She didn't look convinced.

"What happened?" she asked.

"It's a long story. I'm okay," he said. "I just, uh, I owe Lucille 2 money," he added. He didn't know what made him say it. It was just that there was something comforting about unexpectedly seeing someone so familiar, and he felt a strange urge to tell her everything. Not that they'd been all that close lately. He'd only spoken to her a handful of times since they'd stopped living together six years ago.

"You owe her money?" Lindsay said.

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"Seven hundred thousand dollars," he said weakly. Lindsay's eyes widened.

"Wh—Why, how did you end up owing her so much?"

"I just, I borrowed it from her to finish Sudden Valley, and then the housing market collapsed and I couldn't build a road to it, it's just, it's a disaster," he said, getting worked up again. Lindsay looked at him with a mixture of surprise and pity. It wasn't very comforting.

"How did you get those bruises?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing, she just, she slapped me, and she was wearing these heavy rings…"

"She slapped you?"

"Yeah, I, uh… I tried to…to do something stupid, I deserved it."

"What did you do?" she said, clearly confused.

He laughed humorlessly. "Not something I want to tell you about."

She raised her eyebrows. He realized she was probably trying to guess what he'd done now and he cursed himself for bringing it up. The truth was probably worse than most of the things she was thinking, but he felt like he should explain himself now. "Ugh, okay, I'll tell you," he sighed. "Just, let's go somewhere else."


	28. Chapter 28

_May, 2012_

"Okay, I don't think there's anyone here," Lindsay said as she and Michael walked along the edge of the boardwalk. They'd finally gotten away from the crowds and were near the banana stand, which was now operated by the Austero Bluth Company. "So what did you do?" Lindsay asked, sitting down on a bench.

"Ugh," Michael sighed, still not sure he wanted to tell her, but he'd brought her all the way over here. "Okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"I won't," she said impatiently.

"And you gotta understand, I didn't have any other option."

"Jesus, what did you do?" she laughed, sounding a little nervous. He sighed.

"I told her…that…that I'd have sex with her if she gave me an extension on the loan."

Lindsay's eyes widened.

"I didn't actually do it," he said quickly, recoiling at her reaction.

"Oh my god," she said, with a mixture of pity and revulsion.

"I didn't have any other choice," Michael said desperately, hating seeing her look at him like that. Why had he thought it was a good idea to tell her about this?

"Wow," she said, seemingly more to herself than to him.

"Come on, don't look like that," Michael pleaded. It wasn't like Lindsay had never done anything humiliating like this. "I shouldn't have told you, I don't know why I did."

"No, no, I'm just… I'm just surprised."

"Okay," he said in annoyance, considering leaving right then.

"Hey, you didn't actually do it, you just offered," she said. It surprised him. He couldn't remember Lindsay ever trying to comfort him about anything. Maybe because he'd never looked so pathetic. "Don't worry, I'm sure it will all work out," she said with a reassuring smile, though there was still a condescending kind of pity in her voice. He laughed darkly, still wishing he hadn't told her, but he appreciated that she was at least trying to make him feel better.

"For what it's worth, Lucille 2 has something embarrassing on me too," she said after a pause.

"Really?" he said, surprised.

"Yeah, it's really bad."

"What is it?"

"Well, you know how I've been seeing Herbert Love."

"Yeah," Michael said, remembering their disastrous accidental double date the previous night.

"Well, it turns out Lucille 2 has photos of me with him and she wants to leak them to the press to hurt his campaign.

"Hm," Michael said, surprised that Lindsay was also being blackmailed by Lucille 2. "Well, that's not that bad, you're free to date him," he said, though he could understand why Love wouldn't want his relationship with Lindsay public.

"Well, he _is_ married," she mumbled.

Michael raised his eyebrows. He hadn't known that.

"And he thinks I'm a prostitute," she added.

"What?"

"Well, I didn't know he thought that until just now! I thought he really liked me, I had no idea he thought that until he paid me."

"He _paid_ you?"

"Well, don't look at me like that!" she said angrily. "I didn't take it, I threw the money in his face. And you're the one who actually tried to prostitute yourself!"

"Sorry, sorry," he said quickly.

"I only told you to make you feel better, you have no right to judge me," she muttered.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said, though he knew she was right that he had no moral high ground here. She hesitated, then sighed.

"It's okay," she said, laughing dryly. She looked out at the dark water, the cold wind pulling little strands of her hair out of place. He looked at her, thinking about how little he'd seen her over the last few years. He hadn't gotten used to her short hair yet, or the way her latest round of plastic surgery drew her skin tight across her face. Still, there was a kind of luminous beauty about her tonight that he couldn't explain. She turned to him.

"Do you think we would have been different if we'd been raised in a different family?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Like…like maybe if Mom and Dad hadn't screwed us up so much we wouldn't always be getting into situations like this."

He thought it over. "Yeah, probably," he agreed. He wondered if this had something to do with Lindsay finding out she was adopted.

"Don't tell anyone about the thing with Herbert," she said suddenly. "I mean, I guess everyone will know soon anyway, but in case I can change her mind."

"Yeah, I won't."

"Thanks," she said with a grim smile. "I won't tell anyone about your thing either."

He laughed. "Thanks."

She turned away and looked out at the water again, the pale white light of the streetlights above them shining on her face. He was suddenly struck by an image of her sitting next to him on that same bench more than twenty years ago, when they'd come here after mailing in her college applications and she'd kissed his cheek and he'd pushed her away. She turned to him now and saw that he was looking at her.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," he said, turning away, and they lapsed into silence again.

He looked down at her hand resting on the bench, thinking about how in love with him she'd been at the time, and how he'd felt about her. So much had changed since then but she was still the same, she'd never changed all that much. He wondered if she still felt that way about him. She probably did, just a few years ago she'd wanted to marry him. He felt a sudden urge to kiss her, just to see how she would react. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind. They may not be technically related but she was still his sister, and it would complicate their relationship. They'd been through all this before and it had been years before things had returned to normal.

He thought again about that last year before he'd gone to college, when things had gotten out of control. She'd really loved him then. He remembered how she used to look at him, like he was the only good thing left in the world. And he couldn't help it, he'd always been attracted to her, and she was so beautiful and helpless and in love with him, anyone would have gotten carried away. He really could kiss her now, it wasn't like when they were teenagers, when they'd thought they were twins. He wouldn't do anything more than that, he just wanted to kiss her, to feel her melt in his arms again like she used to. He needed that right now, he needed to be for her what he'd been when they were teenagers, and before he could change his mind he reached out and turned her face to him and kissed her.

Lindsay jerked her head back in surprise, but he went with her, kissing her longingly, desperately. She sat there frozen as he kissed her, making him panic. She was going to kiss him back, wasn't she, or had he waited too long? But then she hesitantly parted her lips and kissed him too. He caressed her face, hating himself as he did but loving the tension he could feel in her body and the softness of her luminous skin. She tentatively touched his arm, growing a little bolder with her kisses. He returned them, moving his hand to her back and then to her waist. It was okay, they weren't related by blood and no one would ever know anyway.

He suddenly realized he was sitting on the boardwalk kissing his sister in plain sight. He pulled away, making her gasp. He looked around wildly. He saw with relief that they were still the only ones here.

"We should, uh, we should go somewhere else, someone might see," he stammered, feeling like someone else was saying the words for him. Lindsay stared back at him, her eyes wide with shock.

"Uh, yeah," she said dazedly. She looked around them. "Uh, maybe the banana stand?"

Michael looked over at the banana stand. He thought he still had the key in his wallet. "Yeah," he said, feeling pretty dazed himself. "Yeah, okay."

He got up and walked over to the banana stand, feeling like he was in a dream. He fumbled for the key in his wallet as he walked. Lindsay got up and followed him. He found his key and opened the door. He could feel Lindsay's presence next to him but he didn't dare look at her, starting to panic again. What was he doing here, how had he gotten into this situation? But before he could say anything Lindsay was kissing him again, wrapping those lovely arms around him and pulling him into the banana stand, and all his doubts slipped away. He went with her, surprised by the sudden ferocity with which she kissed him. He closed the door behind them, plunging them into darkness.

They stumbled across the banana stand and hit the counter, knocking over a jar of sprinkles so that they spilled out across the floor. They ignored it, kissing with abandon now. He pulled her graceful body close to him, feeling like he couldn't get enough of her. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he'd never forgive himself for this, but he was so tired of being the moral one when it came to the two of them, rejecting her over and over again when he wanted her like nothing else. He'd intended to prostitute himself to Lucille 2 tonight anyway, and this didn't feel like too much of a leap from that, morally speaking. Everything about her drew him to her, even the smell of her, her perfume smelled like the perfume she'd worn as a teenager. He ran his hand down her body and caressed her bare thigh, he'd always loved her legs. She moaned and reached down and pulled his hand up under her dress.

He took a deep breath. This had gone way too far, hadn't he told himself all he would do was kiss her? But he couldn't leave now, he was so caught up in the electricity between them, he couldn't imagine breaking away from it. He couldn't see her in the dark but he could feel her holding her breath. He slowly moved his hand in between her legs, hearing her exhale softly as he did. He ran his finger over her slit through the lacy fabric of her panties, making her whimper. He started working his finger into her folds. He could feel the liquid seeping through the fabric, driving him crazy. Without really making a conscious decision he pulled his hand out from between her legs and slipped it into her panties, running his fingers through her warm wetness and over her clit. She sucked in a breath. He vaguely noticed the lace rubbing uncomfortably against his wet fingers and pulled them off so that they fell to the floor around her feet. He moved the hand on her waist to her back and grabbed her thigh with the other and lifted her up onto the counter so that she was sitting facing him, then returned to fingering her, breathing in her sweet seawater scent.

"Fuck," he whispered, feeling like he couldn't stand it anymore. No, he couldn't do anything more than this, this would have to be enough. He inserted his finger into her, mesmerized by the tightness around his finger. He pumped it into her, gently circling her clit with his thumb. He could tell she was trying not to let on how crazy this was making her but every now and then a moan would escape from her lips. He didn't know why she was holding back, there was really no point in hiding their feelings for each other anymore. He wished she wouldn't, he'd waited his whole life to be this close to her. He was still vaguely aware that he should be filled with shame right now, but none of it seemed to matter at the moment. They'd always been different from other siblings. This didn't feel wrong, it felt more natural than anything, the smell of her and the sound her sighs filling his head.

She reached down and unbuckled his belt with shaky hands. His breath caught in his throat as she pulled it off and started unbuttoning his pants. He'd promised himself he wouldn't, but he really had to at this point, there was no way he could stop now. It was going to happen sometime, he'd always known there was something inevitable about them. He took out his wallet and found the condom he'd intended to use with Lucille 2, thinking with dark humor that in a way this night had turned out much better than he'd expected. He took off his boxers and gave himself a few quick strokes, trying not to moan with relief as he did. He rolled on the condom, somewhat uncomfortably aware of Lindsay sitting in front of him. His eyes had adjusted enough now that he could see her there, though he still couldn't make out her expression. She wrapped her beautiful long legs around him and pulled him towards her and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pushed against her wet opening, still having trouble grasping that he was really doing this after all these years and knowing he would regret it for the rest of his life, but he really didn't care anymore. All he could think of was the feeling of her arms around him and the smooth skin of her bare thigh under his hand and her sharp intake of breath as he entered her.

He moaned with relief as he pushed inside her. Oh god, yes, this was what he needed, why had he waited so long? He moved his hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as he began to thrust in an out of her. She was gripping his shoulders tightly now, her legs still wrapped around him. He closed his eyes, her tightness around him filling him with waves of pleasure. She groaned, pulling him closer and pushing her hips against his to get more of him inside her.

"Michael," she sighed, apparently not trying to hide how she felt anymore.

"Linds," he breathed back, loving the emotion in her voice, hearing how much she still needed him after all these years. He didn't care what anyone thought anymore, this didn't feel wrong, it never had. It was meant to be like this, just the two of them in their own separate world, the sheer desire between them like electricity.

His thrusts became faster and less coordinated and he grunted with effort as he struggled to hold back. Thankfully her cries were getting faster and more urgent now because he didn't think he could take it anymore. She gripped his arm painfully and he felt her clamp tight around him as she came. He groaned and came inside her, his hand still on the back of her head and his fingers tangled in her hair. He pulled out of her and they fell limply against each other. They stood there wordlessly with their foreheads resting against each other for a long time, breathing heavily together as the warm after-effects swirled around his head. She laughed softly.

" _Yes,"_ they sighed in unison.

Michael looked up at her. He was close enough now that he could see her looking searchingly up at him. He pulled away and opened his mouth to say something, then realized he had no idea what to say. He looked away and stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable. He quickly threw away the condom and pulled his pants back on, still looking away from her.

He needed to say something, give her some kind of explanation, but he didn't know himself how he'd ended up here. He tried to fight the panic that was building up in him again. He'd known what he was doing, he'd known the whole time that he would regret it and he'd decided he didn't care, but he was just starting to realize that this would change things forever. He'd never gone all the way with her, all they'd ever done was kiss, and even that had done irreparable harm to their relationship. And what if she wanted more than this, for god's sake, what would he say to her, how could he possibly explain this? He needed to get out of here, he couldn't spend another second in this dark, cramped banana stand with the smell of sex and her sitting there right in front of him.

He absentmindedly wiped the hand he'd used to finger her on his pants, then realized his sleeve was covered in chocolate sauce. He must have knocked the lid off the tub at some point without noticing. His heart started beating quickly. What if someone saw and knew he'd been in the banana stand and put it together? He remembered there was a box of yellow banana stand shirts and bent down and started feeling around the floor for the box.

"What are you doing?" Lindsay said tentatively, startling him.

"Uh, I'm just—I got chocolate sauce on my arm, I'm trying to find a shirt to change into," he said distractedly.

"Uh, okay," she said, laughing nervously. She sounded slightly alarmed. She probably thought he'd lost his mind. He'd call her tomorrow and explain everything, but right now he needed to get out of here. He found the box and took out his phone to use as a flashlight. He blinked as he turned it on. The light of the screen was painfully bright after being in the dark for so long. He quickly looked through the shirts for one that would fit him. He heard Lindsay slide off the counter and saw her out of the corner of his eye picking her panties up off the floor and putting them back on, but he kept his eyes determinedly on the box of shirts. He found one and pulled it out, then turned off his phone, wanting the slight comfort of the darkness again. He took off his own shirt, struggling with the buttons with his shaky hands, and replaced it with the clean one. He stood up as he finished buttoning it up, then opened the door.

"You're just leaving?" Lindsay said shrilly. Michael looked back at her helplessly, finally able to see her clearly now that the door was open.

"Uh—yeah, I'm sorry, I—sorry," he stammered, and turned away and quickly set off down the boardwalk.


	29. Chapter 29

_May, 2012_

Michael pulled into the driveway of the long-neglected model home in his mapping car and got out. He'd come here looking for a place to hide for the night. He took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the contacts for Lindsay's number. He should call her now. He'd probably scared her earlier, and he thought he'd calmed down enough now that he could explain himself without scaring her even more.

He hesitated, trying to think of what to say. How would he explain this? He'd been out of it, he'd been in some kind of emotional state after the whole mess with Lucille 2 and that was why he'd had sex with her? Even he didn't know what had been going through his mind. He'd just missed how it used to be between them, he'd wanted her to look at him like she used to after everything that had happened to him in the last few years. God, it seemed so messed up now. Why on earth had he thought it would make things better? His life had already been a mess and he'd only made it worse.

He put his phone away. He didn't know what to say to her yet. He'd sort everything out in the morning, the money he owed to Lucille 2, the situation with Rebel and George Michael, and this new mess he'd gotten himself into with Lindsay, but right now he needed to sleep and clear his head.

He walked up to the door, unconsciously playing the scene again in his head. Against his better judgement, he smelled his fingers to see if they still smelled like her. He'd washed his hands afterwards in a public restroom (which had blue paint all over the sink for some reason), but the scent of her still lingered, mixed with the generically sweet smell of the soap. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He opened the door and went inside. The lights were on and there were pizza boxes and Cinco de Cuatro souvenirs scattered around the house. Was someone else here? He went to the living room and washed his hands again in the sink, hoping whoever it was had left.

"Thanks for coming so late, Maria," he heard Gob saying upstairs. He looked up and saw him walking down the stairs. "I know that you won't be cleaning up tomorrow, and we did make quite a mess of that bedroom…" He stopped when he saw Michael. "Michael," he said. He walked into the living room. "Michael. I didn't expect to be seeing you again after all the…unpleasantness," he said, referring to the fight in the ball pit they'd had when Michael had mistakenly thought it was him and not George Michael who was dating Rebel Alley.

"I-I've, I've, I've been out of control," Michael said, ashamed. "Sorry. In fact, I-I just did something that I-I don't, I don't, I don't know why I did it."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gob asked.

"No, I do not, I've said too much already, you cannot help me."

"Well, I wasn't hoping to help, I was hoping to rub it in. Because of all the unpleasantness."

"Got it," Michael said.

"Oh, dammit, I meant to throw these in the chipper," Gob muttered to himself, looking at the souvenirs on the floor. "God, I'm just not into Cuatro this year."

Michael walked dejectedly over to the counter and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"I was the one that was wrong, not you," he said, taking a drink. "And besides, you could not make me feel worse right now."

"Well, I'd be willing to let you have your apology back if you give me the chance to try. I mean, I'm gonna need some specifics about the thing that you're ashamed of. Otherwise, I'll just be taking general potshots," he laughed and put his hand on Michael's shoulder. "Bad example. If you were ashamed of being in love with a man—" Michael glanced at his hand on his shoulder. "—suddenly discovered these new feelings, something that you only allowed to happen because you thought _he_ was gay and you were hoping to exact revenge, but then you found out he was straight, then you wanted to get even, so maybe you put a mask on someone and then tried to convince yourself that the sex you were about to have was with yourself, but it turned out to be him, and all you ended up doing was proving that your feelings were real…then I might say something like, 'homo much?'"

"It's not that," Michael said, walking away.

"I said 'bad example,'" Gob said sulkily.

"I went to go see Lucille 2 and I just—I just—I lost control, I did something that I…wish I could forget, you have got no idea how I feel."

"Well, if you're talking about doing something embarrassing with a woman, then no, I don't," Gob said. He picked up an empty pill bottle from the counter. "Hey, I'm down to my last forget-me-now," he said to himself, referring to the roofies he sometimes took to forget things he was ashamed of. "There's only one left. How could that possibly be? Unless… John Beard Jr."

"I don't need to get into it, I came here because I thought the house was empty, but I can go somewhere else, okay?" Michael said, turning to leave.

"Hey, listen, Michael, if you want, we can split this," Gob said, offering him the last forget-me-now.

"No," Michael said, seriously tempted but thinking he needed to live with this, and besides, he still had to call Lindsay tomorrow. "I feel like this is something I shouldn't forget. Okay, and believe me, this is the last time I ever judge you for anything that you ever do…"

He trailed off when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He looked up and saw Tony Wonder standing there in a robe.

"Oh, shit," Tony said, and ran back into the bedroom.

Michael turned to Gob, who looked back at him in horror.

"Is that you who you were with?" Michael said, stunned. "I knew it! I always knew that!"

"Take this, Michael, forget, forget," Gob said frantically, trying to shove the forget-me-now into Michael's mouth.

"No, no!" Michael said, trying to push him away, but Gob tackled him to the floor.

"Put the mask back on!" he called over his shoulder to Tony. "Forget this, Michael! Forget, _forget_ , Michael!"

"Gob!" Michael said, trying in vain to push him away, but Gob succeeded in getting the pill down his throat.

"Forget! Now is the time to forget!"

Michael tried to cough up the pill, but he was already feeling dizzy.

"Now you're forgetting. Now you're forgetting."

"Agh, god," Michael choked.

"It's so easy to forget…" Gob sang to him as the room began to fade. "It's so easy to forget…"

The corners of his vision were turning black now. Was Gob stroking his hair…?


	30. Chapter 30

_May, 2012_

Lindsay sat on a bench by the street, hunching her shoulders against the cold wind coming in off the water. Most of the Cinco de Cuatro celebrants had gone home by now, but she could still hear drunken laughter and shouting in the distance.

After Michael had left her she'd called a taxi and now she was waiting for it to arrive. She hoped it would get here soon. It was cold and late and she couldn't shake the feeling that anyone who looked closely enough would know what she'd just done. She knew there were no visible signs, but she still felt nervous whenever someone walked by.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the taxi coming down the street towards her. She stood up and walked over to meet it. The taxi parked and she got in.

"Hi, can you take me to the Four Seas?" she asked the driver. She didn't want to go to the penthouse or model home and risk running into Michael, and she couldn't stay with Herbert anymore. Not that she'd want to stay with him tonight anyway. She didn't want to see or talk to anyone, she just wanted to get to a shower and an empty bed as quickly as possible.

"Sure," the driver said, and started driving. "Celebrating Cinco de Cuatro?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," she said distractedly.

"I keep thinking the city's going to shut it down someday, the bay is filled with nacho cheese for a month afterwards, but they keep doing it every year."

"Mm," Lindsay agreed shortly without looking away from the window, hoping he would stop talking to her. He seemed to get the hint and didn't say anything more.

Lindsay watched the familiar town pass by through the window, trying to make sense of her tangled mess of feelings. He hadn't shown any concrete sign that he still felt that way about her since they were eighteen, they'd barely even _seen_ each other over the last six years. And then he'd just left her there without any kind of explanation. Standing there alone in the banana stand confused and embarrassed, having to clean up any sign that they'd been there by herself. There were so many emotions swirling around her head that she didn't know what to feel. The only one that was making and kind of sense right now was anger, for leaving her like that and for making her feel so confused. She should be celebrating what looked like the beginning of a promising career in politics right now, but all she could think about was Michael. She remembered getting off Herbert Love's campaign boat. She'd been so electrified that she hadn't wanted to go home yet, so she'd decided to just wander along the boardwalk for a while to clear her head, and that was when she'd run into Michael. She wished she'd just gone straight home.

But it didn't make any _sense_ to feel that way, she'd wanted this for almost thirty years. Did she still want it? She hadn't thought about him that way since she'd found out she was adopted and he'd rejected her for what she'd promised herself was the last time. She thought back to how she'd felt in the moment. That had been a flood of conflicting emotions too. For most of it she was just so shocked and disoriented that she didn't know what she wanted, she'd just been propelled by a vague sense that this was what she'd wanted so desperately all those years ago and that she couldn't let him run out on her on her again. She had felt some shame about halfway through when she'd realized how easily she'd melted for him at a moment's notice, and she'd tried to suppress her reactions as much as she could. She didn't know what the point of it was, as she was still letting him touch her like that regardless. It had just hurt her pride to realize how little it had taken for her to fall for him again, after promising herself so many times that she was done with that.

But then she'd seen how entranced he was by her and it felt something like when they were teenagers, and she didn't know anymore why she was trying to put up walls between them. So much had happened between them in the last thirty years but he was still the person who knew her better than anyone else, the only person she'd ever really loved. For a second she'd forgotten that in the morning he would probably be consumed with guilt and begging her not to tell anyone.

But then he'd just left her there, gone into that same panicked state he always did when he let himself show any kind of non-platonic feelings for her, and she'd remembered why she hated him so much. Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered how she'd felt when she'd realized it was happening all over again, watching him run out on her just like the night before he'd left for college. She blinked them away angrily. For god's sake, why was she crying?

At least it had actually happened this time, it wasn't like when they were teenagers and he'd left before they'd even started. It was just so strange that it was happening _now_. Why couldn't it have been sooner? If this had happened twenty years ago she would have been ecstatic. Now all she felt was confusion. She hadn't even known he still felt that way about her. She'd thought he did, she'd wanted to believe that he did, but part of her had worried that his attraction to her had faded as she got older. But no, he was clearly still very much attracted to her. Maybe he had been this whole time, maybe it had never faded since they were teenagers.

She cursed herself as she realized how happy she was about that. But she couldn't help it, it was just so nice to know. All those times she'd thought maybe she was crazy, that maybe his feelings for her really had dried up when he'd met Tracey and she was just too pathetic to admit it to herself. But the whole time he felt the same way, he was still just as crazy about her as ever. She thought about the way he'd looked when he kissed her, how he'd held her with an almost religious devotion. She'd never felt so needed. Maybe that was why she finally came. She'd laughed out loud afterwards, it had seemed like such a cruel joke, that all this time the solution was having sex with Michael.

She didn't know what was going to happen now. What would he even say to her in the morning? He had to talk to her about it some time, he couldn't avoid her forever. She didn't know what any of it meant. Had it just been a one-time thing, or would he want more than this? Of course he wouldn't, he'd been drunk and in some weird emotional state after what had happened with Lucille 2. There was no way he would ever want to be in some kind of relationship with her. No, he would beat himself up about it, talk about how wrong and disgusting it was, and ask her not to tell anyone. She didn't know if she could stand to go through all that again. God, why did this have to happen tonight? She'd felt so sure of herself when she was giving that speech, for once in her life she'd felt like she knew who she was and what she wanted, and then he'd had to come along and send her spiraling all over again.


	31. Chapter 31

_May, 2012_

Michael sleepily opened his eyes, his head aching. He realized confusedly that he was lying on the floor of the model home and morning sunlight was coming in through the window. How had he gotten here?

He sat up, wracking his brain for some memory of the previous night, but he couldn't remember anything. Maybe he'd gotten really drunk and blacked out? He couldn't remember ever blacking out this badly, though, and there was no one else there. He might have just gotten drunk by himself. He thought he remembered feeling upset about something, but he couldn't remember what.

He turned on the TV, thinking he could at least turn to the weather channel and figure out what day it was.

"Seven hundred thousand," Father Marsala was saying on _And As It Is Such, So Also As Such Is It Unto You_. Michael looked up, feeling a pit of dread in his stomach as he remembered the amount of money he owed to Lucille 2. "Think about it, that is a very big number. Seven hundred thousand abortions every year."

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. That must have been why he'd gotten drunk. He remembered now, his plan to repay the loan. God, it was so humiliating, but he didn't see any other way. Well, might as well get it over with now, while he was still disoriented enough that the shame didn't feel quite so acute. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. It went to voicemail.

" _Vote for Lucille!"_ Lucille 2 said on the answering machine.

"Hey, Lucille 2," Michael said, trying to get over his revulsion enough to sound seductive. "I was hoping that we could get together and…talk about how I can repay you that loan."

He shuddered and hung up. Then, with nothing left to lose, he called Rebel.

"Hello?" he heard her say.

"Rebel. Yeah, Michael. I need to come over," he said bluntly. "I'm—I don't want to act like it doesn't matter to me anymore, 'cause it does."

"Well, there's somebody here right now," she said, laughing nervously.

"I don't care. The thing with the other guy, it's…you know, that's over so we don't—we don't ever have to talk about that ever again, it's going away," he said. It might work out. George Michael had said he was going to end things with her, and there was a slim chance he wouldn't be upset that Michael was dating her as long as he didn't know that Michael had known he was the other guy.

"Okay, well, you can come over later, okay?" Rebel said. "Goodbye."

"I'll see you soon," Michael said, then realized she'd already hung up.

He groaned and lay back down on the floor, hating himself more than ever. Well, two problems were in the process of being taken care of. Now he just needed to figure out what had happened last night.


	32. Chapter 32

_May, 2012_

Lindsay walked down the hospital corridor to the elevator. She'd just visited Herbert Love, who had been found in a coma two nights ago on Cinco. The doctors couldn't say any more about what had caused it other than that it appeared that he had been punched, though how a human could knock him into a coma with a single blow they couldn't explain. They also didn't know when he would come out of it, and his campaign manager had asked Lindsay to run in his place.

She was thrilled—she still felt some lingering excitement whenever she remembered being up in front of that adoring crowd, despite everything that happened afterwards, and she wanted to get another taste of it. And she loved the idea of being a congresswoman. She already had a plan that would make her famous. She'd run as a Republican, which she had to do since she was running in Herbert's place. She would pick up the votes of all the wealthy citizens of Orange County, along with their bankers and tax attorneys, who loved Herbert's high-low plan. Then when she was in office she'd pull the rug out from under them and use her new power to enact the social change she'd been fighting for her whole life. That would show everyone, her friends and enemies from high school, all the men who had rejected her over the years, and of course her so-called family. She'd show them all she wasn't some vapid, lazy Orange County princess like they thought.

In spite of herself she took her phone out of her purse to check if Michael had called her. Still nothing. She clenched her teeth. It had been two fucking days and she hadn't heard anything from him. She was trying not to let it get to her, but she couldn't help it, it hurt. She knew he was probably freaked out about this and drowning in regret right now, but he still had to call her. She was his sister, he owed her an explanation, and she couldn't help but be reminded of waiting by the phone the month after he'd left for college. She'd almost called him so many times now, but she couldn't handle the thought of him thinking she was desperately in love with him again. She would show him it meant nothing to her, she would wait months if she had to, he couldn't avoid her forever.

She cursed herself. Why was she thinking about Michael right now? She'd just decided to run for congress, that should be where her focus was. Yes, she'd show him she had her life together while his was falling apart, she'd show him that night meant nothing to her.


	33. Chapter 33

_May, 2012_

"Thank you for coming in. Please wait in here and we'll come and get you in a few minutes and ask you some questions," Detective Smee said as he led Michael into the waiting room at the Orange County Police Station. Lucille Austero had gone missing two nights ago and the detective had asked Michael to come in and tell them everything he knew. Michael was feeling a little anxious—of course he'd had nothing to do with her disappearance, but the fact that he owed her seven hundred thousand dollars certainly made him look suspicious.

Detective Smee left and Michael walked towards an open seat, then recognized Lindsay sitting in the one next to it.

"Lindsay, hi," he said, surprised to see her there. She looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

"Oh, hi," she said, looking very startled for some reason.

"They brought you in too, huh?" he said, sitting down next to her.

"Uh, yeah," she stammered, looking flustered. "Yeah, Sally told them about those photos, it looks bad."

"Photos?" he repeated, confused.

"You know, the ones I told you about?"

"Sorry, it's not ringing any bells."

"Oh. Doesn't matter," she said turning away. She still seemed very agitated. He assumed it was because she was nervous about being questioned.

"I haven't heard from you," she said after a pause, her voice wavering.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," he said, surprised. It was true that he hadn't called her in a long time, but he hadn't thought she cared. "I've had a lot going on lately."

She looked up at him, a look of undisguised incredulity on her face.

"Sorry, I've been meaning to call you," he said quickly, very confused about why she looked so angry. She could have called him if she wanted to talk to him so much.

"Hm," she said icily, turning away again. Michael looked at her, baffled. Her jaw was set and she looked very hurt.

"Is everything okay?" he said hesitantly, thinking there must be something else that was bothering her. But this seemed to make her even angrier.

"Yeah," she said forcefully. "Yeah, I'm doing great."

"Great," he said, more confused than ever.

"Did you get another bruise?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," he said uncomfortably. George Michael had punched him in the face the day before when he'd found out Michael was seeing Rebel Alley. "Long story. I don't actually know where these came from, I must have forgotten…" he said, gesturing at the bruises on his face, then trailing off when he realized he didn't want to share the fact that he'd gotten blackout drunk by himself either.

"Those were from Lucille 2 slapping you, weren't they?" Lindsay said.

"What?"

"That's what you told me."

"When did I say that?" Michael said, bewildered. He glanced around anxiously, not wanting anyone to overhear Lindsay talking about some sort of altercation between him and Lucille 2 when he was about to be questioned about her disappearance.

"You know," she said, lowering her voice. "On Cinco."

"I didn't see you on Cinco."

She stared at him for a second, her mouth slightly open.

"What are you doing?" she said quietly.

"I mean, I don't think I did," he said uncertainly, realizing he might have, since he had no memory of that night.

"You're just—you're pretending it didn't happen?" she said, her voice shaking.

"Pretending what didn't happen?" he said, starting to feel a little freaked out. She slapped his face.

"Hey! What was that for?!" he said, putting his hand to his face where she'd hit him. The waiting room fell silent.

"You think if you pretend it didn't happen it will just go away?!" Lindsay said furiously.

"Lindsay, I don't know what you're talking about!" he said, panicking with everyone staring at them. She shrieked and started clawing at him.

"How could you—you can't treat me like this, _you can't do this to me_!"

"Lindsay, stop!" he said, trying in vain to push her off of him.

"You think I'll just think I'm crazy and forget about it, is that your fucking plan?!"

"Lindsay, listen, I don't remember anything—"

" _STOP IT!"_ she screamed. "Don't you say another fucking word—"

Two police officers ran into the room at the sound of the commotion and pulled Lindsay off of him.

" _I hate you!"_ she shouted, struggling to get free. "I'm done with you, I never want to see you again! I hate you, I hate you," she repeated, devolving into sobs. Michael stared at her in shock. The two police officers looked at him with similar expressions.


	34. Chapter 34

_May, 2012_

Michael drove home from the police station. The sun had set and the night sky outside was a deep, warm shade of purple. Lindsay screaming at him about how he was pretending something hadn't happened, his apparent motive, and his lack of an alibi had instantly put him at the top of the suspect list for Lucille 2's disappearance. A polygraph test had at least helped his case that he had no idea what Lindsay was talking about or what had happened to Lucille 2, but he was sure they weren't done with him yet, especially since he'd had to admit that he had no memory of that night. He couldn't help but feel a little nervous himself. He was sure he wouldn't go so far as to hurt Lucille 2, but he would feel a lot better if he knew what had happened.

And what had Lindsay been talking about? He thought about her crying, saying she hated him and never wanted to see him again. Jesus, what had he done? He'd called her as soon as the police finished interrogating him but she hadn't answered. He'd assumed he'd gotten drunk alone in the model home on the night of Cinco de Cuatro, but he didn't have any proof of that beyond that he'd woken up there with a headache and no memory of the previous night. Maybe Lindsay had gotten drunk with him and left? Or maybe they'd been somewhere else and he'd gone to the model home afterwards. Now that he thought about it, he did remember being confused about why he was wearing one of the yellow shirts from the banana stand.

He froze. An image had suddenly flashed into his mind of him and Lindsay in the banana stand. His heart started beating faster. Where had that come from? It must have been his imagination. He wouldn't do that, no matter how drunk he was. Of course, the last time he'd gotten blackout drunk with her they'd kissed, but that was it. At least he thought it was. And he hadn't known she was adopted then…

He started to panic. He wouldn't, he'd refused her so many times before, and he hadn't even thought about her that way since they'd stopped living together. But it would explain why she'd been so upset, what she'd meant when she said he was pretending it didn't happen, even why she'd seemed so hurt that he hadn't called her. Good god, had he actually had sex with her after all these years?

He needed to call her and find out what happened. He didn't want to, he was afraid to know if it was actually true, and if it had been in his imagination he didn't want her to know that either. But he needed to explain to her that he really had forgotten, she hated his guts right now. He reluctantly picked up his phone and called her.


	35. Chapter 35

_May, 2012_

Lindsay lay on the bed in her hotel room at the Four Seas, her eyes puffy and stinging from crying, which was about all she had done since she'd come here after the police had finished questioning her. She was sure her freak-out at the station had convinced them that Michael had killed Lucille 2 and she knew about it, but she was too upset to care. They couldn't prove it since it wasn't true, and she wasn't too worried about making Michael's life very unpleasant for a while.

She still couldn't believe he would do this to her. He had a long history of treating her pretty callously when it came to anything non-platonic between them, but this was a new low. Did he think if he pretended nothing had happened for long enough she would just let it go and move on? She'd seriously considered telling everyone in the family just to humiliate him, and because she couldn't entirely rule out the possibility that their father would murder him if he knew. But it would be her word against Michael's and they'd probably believe him, which would be even more humiliating. Plus, she couldn't risk letting it get out that she'd had sex with her brother just when she was preparing to run for congress. She was already going to be plagued by enough scandals as it was, what with the pictures of her with Herbert Love, the fact that she was under suspicion for his rival's murder, and what had just happened at the police station, which she was sure would make its way to John Beard.

She heard her phone ringing in her purse. She ignored it at first, not feeling up to talking to anyone at the moment, then sat up when she realized it might be Michael again. He'd called her earlier but she'd let it ring. She intended to do so again, but she wanted to know if it was him. There was a small amount of comfort in the fact that he was trying to reach her now. She picked her purse up off the floor and took out her phone. It had stopped ringing now, but she could see that it was indeed Michael who had called her, and he'd left a message. Part of her wanted to keep deleting his messages forever and disappear from his life entirely just to show him that she wouldn't let him treat her like this, but she couldn't help it, she was just so desperate for an explanation.

She lay back down on the bed and played the voicemail.

"Lindsay, please call me back, I need to talk to you," he said. The desperation in his voice was very satisfying. "I honestly didn't remember, I must have gotten really drunk that night because I couldn't remember anything when I woke up, but I—I think I remember now. Please just—please call me back."

Lindsay lay still for a while. He could still be lying. He could have just changed his mind about gaslighting her when he saw how upset she was, but she already felt like weight had been lifted off her chest. He had been really freaked out that night, she could easily see him going home and getting drunk out of his mind. That was still hurtful, but it was a lot better than the alternative, and more plausible. She still couldn't quite believe that he would lie to her about this.

She didn't know if she wanted to call him back. She loved the idea of him waiting desperately for days after he'd just put her through the same thing. But if he was telling the truth then that wasn't entirely his fault. She wanted to believe it, that he hadn't meant to leave her hanging for the last two days like this. And she couldn't help it, she wanted to hear him apologize, so she impulsively called him back. He answered almost immediately.

"Lindsay, hi," he stammered.

"I got your message," she said, not sure what else to say.

"I'm so sorry about earlier, I really didn't remember anything from the fourth."

"You weren't that drunk when you left," she pointed out, wanting to make him convince her that he was telling the truth.

"When I left?"

"Yeah, when you just left me there without any explanation!" she said angrily, still stinging from the memory and wanting him to know how much he'd hurt her.

"I-I don't remember much, or anything really. I just woke up on the fifth and I couldn't remember anything."

"I swear to god, if you're lying to me—"

"I'm not, really. Please, you've got to believe me."

She hesitated. He sounded sincere, and she wanted so much to believe him. "Okay," she said quietly.

"Thank you," he said. She didn't say anything, though it did feel good to hear the genuine relief in his voice that she wasn't going to cut him out of her life like he'd threatened to do to her and the rest of the family so many times.

"So…what happened?" he asked tentatively.

"I thought you said you remembered," she said, confused.

"Well, kind of, I'm not sure. Did we…?"

"Uh, yeah," she said. Had he really forgotten the whole thing? "Yeah."

There was a silence. "Oh god," he breathed, making her furious at him all over again. "Wait, just to be clear, we—we had sex?"

"Yeah," she said, frustrated and embarrassed. She didn't want to recount the whole thing to him, why couldn't he just remember it?

"But… _how_ , I mean, were we drunk?"

"Uh, no. Well—I mean, you were. Not that much though. It wasn't like that, though, you were the one who kissed me."

" _I_ kissed _you_?"

"Yeah, asshole!" she snapped. "I wouldn't, I—I'm over that, I got over that a long time ago."

He didn't say anything. She hated him, knowing he didn't believe her.

"You were kind of out of it, you were upset because you'd tried to sleep with Lucille 2 so you wouldn't have to pay back a loan," she said.

"Oh god," he said again.

"You didn't, you said she turned you down," she said, briefly wondering if he actually had had something to do with her disappearance. He certainly hadn't seemed like himself that night, but she still couldn't see him doing something like that. "But yeah, I guess you were upset about that. And then you kissed me completely out of the blue, and afterwards you just left me there in the banana stand," she said bitterly.

"Why were we in the banana stand?"

"I don't know, it was nearby," she stammered, angry that that was the part he was fixating on.

"Oh," he said weakly. There was a pause. "You haven't told anyone about this, have you?"

"No!" she said furiously. "God, is that all you care about?!"

"No, sorry," he said quickly. "Wait, why are you mad?"

"Because—because you can't treat me like that, I'm your sister!" she said, trying to think of some way to communicate to him how he'd hurt her.

"But you—you wanted to, right?"

"I don't know!" she exploded, her eyes filling with tears again. "I mean, yeah, I guess, at the time. I definitely regret it now!"

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was—I mean, I don't even remember it."

"Yeah, whatever, just—I don't want to talk about it anymore. I can't deal with this right now, I'm—I'm running for congress," she said, wishing she could have revealed this in a more triumphant way.

"What?"

"Yeah, they asked me to run in Herbert Love's place, we're going to announce it tomorrow," she said tiredly.

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, so I don't want to deal with you right now, so just leave me alone!" she said, and hung up.


	36. Chapter 36

_October, 2012_

Michael sat on the couch in the living room of the model home, looking apprehensively at his phone. He'd finally decided to call Lindsay tonight, but he was still working up the nerve to do it. They hadn't spoken since May when she'd hung up on him. He'd been trying to convince himself he was only respecting her wishes—she _had_ told him to leave her alone—but he knew it was mainly because he was too afraid to talk to her.

He still felt so ashamed about what had happened that night, many of the details of which had come back to him now. He had a fairly clear picture of everything that happened up until he left her, though how he'd gotten to the model home was still a little fuzzy and he didn't remember anything after he'd arrived. Thankfully, Lucille 2 had disappeared while he was still with Lindsay. It didn't help him with the police, as he still didn't have an alibi he was willing to tell them, but it at least gave him some peace of mind. Lucille 2 was still missing and the case remained unsolved. The detectives still seemed to think it was him, but without any evidence they couldn't do anything about it.

Things were going a little better for him now. He felt terrible about it and hoped Lucille 2 was okay, but her disappearance had solved his debt problem. He'd also patched things up with George Michael, who was no longer dating Rebel Alley anyway after she'd left him for one of her costars in a movie she was doing. Michael's movie about the family had never gotten off the ground, due to his inability to get his family's signatures and his preoccupation with being investigated for Lucille 2's disappearance, but he didn't really care about it that much anymore. He was eager to get back to his roots in housing and give the Michael B. Company a second chance now that the economy was turning around.

Though he hadn't spoken to Lindsay, he had been following the election. She was running against her old rival Sally Sitwell, who was running in Lucille 2's place. It had been the ugliest election Michael had ever seen, even worse than when they'd run against each other for class president back in high school. Lindsay's campaign had been hit by so many scandals that he'd lost count of how many times he'd thought it was over, but she was still clinging to a surprising amount of support. It didn't seem to be enough to win, but he was still somewhat impressed, though disappointed in the voters of Orange County at the same time.

Now the election was in a week and he didn't think he could put off calling her anymore. He still saw her campaign as something of a stunt, but he felt like he should be supportive, and he felt guilty about what had happened in May. He didn't want this silence between them to last forever, and now seemed like a good time to end it.

He took a deep breath and called her. He waited as the phone rang, half hoping she wouldn't answer, but then he heard her voice.

"Michael, hi," she said, sounding surprised that he was calling her.

"Hi," he said nervously, worried she would still be mad at him. "I'm sorry I haven't called you, I've been meaning to—"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," she said quickly. "How are you?"

"Good," he said, surprised and grateful that she wasn't mad. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, sounding nervous. "I've been very busy with the campaign."

"Yeah, I can imagine. I've been following the election. Good luck next week."

"Thank you," she said with genuine emotion.

There was an awkward silence as Michael tried to find something to say. It felt strange to talk to her again after so long, and with all that happened between them.

"Sorry, I guess I don't have much to say, I just wanted to wish you luck," he said awkwardly.

"Yeah, thanks, it means a lot."

"Of course. Well, I guess I'll get going."

"Okay, bye," she said. "Wait, Michael."

"Yeah?"

"Uh, we're having a watch party on election night, you know, with all the campaign staff and donors. The family will be there too. You're welcome to come if you want."

"Oh, yeah, thanks," he said, surprised. "Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great," she said sincerely. "Uh, I'll have to check the time and the place, I don't remember. I'll text it to you."

"Okay. Thanks, Lindsay," he said, relieved and grateful that she seemed to have forgiven him.

"Yeah, of course. Bye."

"Bye."


	37. Chapter 37

_November, 2012_

Lindsay stood impatiently in the crowded hotel ballroom. It was election night and the watch party was just beginning. She spotted her campaign manager, David, coming back into the ballroom from the hallway. He'd just stepped out to call someone he knew at the polls and get some initial results. She quickly wove her way through the crowd to meet him, thanking the people expressing their support for her as she passed.

"Hey, how's it looking?" she asked David when she reached him.

"It's too early to tell," he said.

"Okay, but who's ahead so far?" she said impatiently.

He hesitated. "Sitwell." Lindsay closed her eyes and groaned. "But like I said, they've just started counting, it doesn't mean anything yet," he said quickly.

"Okay," she said, nodding, though she didn't feel very reassured.

"Are you ready to give your speech?"

"What speech?"

"You've got to go thank everyone for their support, say something motivational, that kind of thing."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "I haven't prepared anything."

"It doesn't have to be fancy, just a few sentences to make the donors happy."

"Okay," she said, still distracted by the news that Sally was ahead of her.

"The mic's all set, go up there whenever you're ready. Soon, though, everyone's waiting to see you."

"Okay, I can do it now," she said. She'd given so many speeches lately that it didn't really phase her anymore.

"Now you sound like a congresswoman," he said.

"Thanks, David," she said, smiling at the praise. They'd grown close after working together so much over the last few months.

She made her way back through the crowd towards the stage, still fixating on the initial results. It was too early to tell, it didn't mean anything yet, but god, she couldn't lose. She knew it was likely, all the polls pointed to Sally, but she wasn't ready to accept it yet. She'd put so much work into this, she didn't think she'd ever worked so hard at anything in her life, and she certainly couldn't lose to Sally Sitwell. Sally had dragged her reputation through the mud in every way possible over the last six months. She'd publicized everything from Lindsay's affair with Herbert Love to the fact that she was under suspicion for Lucille 2's disappearance to a list she'd somehow managed to put together of every cosmetic procedure Lindsay had had since her nose job in high school, along with 'before pictures.' The thought of Sally claiming victory after everything she'd put her through was too much to bear. And she also wasn't ready to give up her new life. She loved the campaign, giving speeches to adoring supporters who had somehow stuck with her through everything. She had to win, it was the only outcome she could handle.

She climbed the stairs up onto the stage and walked over to the microphone. The crowd erupted in applause when they saw her, the sound giving her new confidence.

"Hello, everyone," she said. The room quieted down. "I just want to thank you all for coming here tonight, and of course, for all your support throughout the campaign. All the donors, and the campaign staff that worked tirelessly to get us to where we are today. And, uh, no matter what the results are, I'm so grateful to all of you…"

She trailed off when she was Michael at the edge of the room. She'd known he would be here, she'd invited him, but it was still a shock to see him in person. The last time she'd seen him was six months ago when she'd attacked him in the police station, and the time before that was when she'd had sex with him. She'd decided to forgive him shortly after their phone call in May. She'd realized that most of her anger had just been because she'd had trouble switching gears after thinking he'd lied to her about forgetting that night. She gave him a shy smile. He smiled back, looking pretty uncomfortable himself, though the sight still filled her with emotion.

"Put up this wall!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"Yeah, that's right!" Lindsay said, trying to regain her composure. "Let's put up this wall! Thank you," she said, and left the stage as everyone cheered.


	38. Chapter 38

_November, 2012_

Michael stepped out of the hotel into the cool night air, somewhat relieved to get away from the crowd. He'd been feeling a bit awkward at the watch party since he didn't know anyone there, so he'd decided to step out for a little while and go for a short walk through the hotel gardens. He hadn't talked to Lindsay yet—he'd tried to a few times but she always seemed busy to talking to other people and then he'd lost track of where she was.

Miraculously, she was starting to pull ahead of Sally Sitwell, outperforming even her own campaign's expectations. He didn't know what she would do if she won. She had no government experience—she didn't have any kind of experience really, she'd never held down a job for more than a month. Not that Sally Sitwell was very qualified either, but she at least seemed more competent than Lindsay. He'd still voted for Lindsay, though, if only because he didn't want to have voting against his own sister on his conscience and one vote wouldn't make a difference anyway.

"Hey, Michael!"

Michael looked over and saw Lindsay sitting on a bench off in a shadowy corner under some trees.

"Oh, hi," he said, surprised and somewhat caught off guard. "I've been trying to find you."

"Yeah, I sneaked out here for a drink," she laughed sheepishly, holding up the silver flask in her hand as he walked over to her. "Can't be seen at the bar."

He laughed and sat down next to her. It was strange to be so close to her. It was the closest he'd been since he'd remembered what had happened. "Nervous?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little," she said. "I can't believe I'm ahead."

"Me neither," he said emphatically. She nodded and took a drink, looking a little shell-shocked. She was wearing a black dress similar to the one she'd worn on Cinco de Cuatro.

"What are you going to do if you win?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, are you going to accept it and become a representative?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" she said indignantly.

"I don't know, I guess I just…yeah, I guess you would," he said, wishing he hadn't said anything.

"I didn't do this campaign for nothing, I want to win," she said, looking annoyed.

"Yeah, I know, sorry," he said. They didn't say anything for a moment.

"Do you think I will?" she asked tentatively.

"I don't know," he said, surprised at the question. "The results are looking good."

"Yeah, they are," she said. "You voted for me, right?" she said teasingly, though there was a note of seriousness in her voice.

"Of course, I wouldn't vote against my own sister."

"Good," she laughed.

He smiled at her, acutely aware of the fact that it had taken six months for him to call her. "Thanks for inviting me here," he said.

She smiled. "Of course. Thanks for coming."

"I'm sorry I haven't called you," he said hesitantly, reluctant to bring it up but feeling like he owed it to her.

"It's okay," she said quickly.

"I've been following the election on the news. It's amazing you're doing so well."

"Thank you," she said with genuine emotion, clearly surprised. "It means a lot to me, this election. I've put so much work into it."

"Yeah, it's really impressive. Let's hope it pays off."

"Yeah, let's hope so."

He smiled at her, then looked away, thinking of that night again in spite of himself. It had been torturing him for the last six months, and being with her again only made it worse. He couldn't look at her without the images coming back to him. It was worse than it had ever been, now that he had little slivers of memories of that night, just enough to make him feel frustrated that he couldn't remember more. He couldn't help it, it hadn't been enough. In a pitch black banana stand with her dress on the whole time, and he could barely even remember it. If he had to live with the shame of having had sex with his sister he at least wanted it to feel satisfying, which just made him hate himself even more. He felt so ashamed that he'd had so little self-control, that he'd messed with her emotions again after everything he'd put her through over the years, and that he still wanted her like nothing else. He didn't want to think of her like this, he wanted so much to see her as only his sister, but there was nothing he could do, he'd changed their relationship forever.

"Well, I should go back in now, there will probably be more results coming in," Lindsay said, putting the flask in her purse. "Do you want to come with me? It would be nice to have some family there."

"Yeah, sure," he said, touched that she wanted him with her.

"Great," she said, and they got up and headed back inside.


	39. Chapter 39

_November, 2012_

"What is taking so long?" Lindsay said impatiently. She and Michael were sitting at the back of the stage. One of her aides had been coming in every twenty minutes to write the latest results on a whiteboard on the stage. "It's been twenty minutes, hasn't it?"

"I think so," Michael said.

"Did you see what time it was the last time he wrote it?"

"I didn't see—"

"Damn it," she said, clearly on edge. Her lead on Sally Sitwell had only continued to increase and the excitement in the room was palpable. Even Michael was starting to get caught up in it, though it was mixed with a growing sense of apprehension. Good lord, what had Lindsay gotten herself into?

The door from the hallway opened and the aide came in, a grin on his face.

"Oh my god," Lindsay said, grabbing Michael's arm. He jumped a little in surprise at the unexpected touch. He was still anxious that people would somehow guess what happened between them. "He's smiling, right, he's smiling?"

"Yeah, he's smiling," Michael laughed.

The aide climbed up the stairs onto the stage. Lindsay stood up, her mouth slightly open. Michael unconsciously stood too, caught up in her excitement. Instead of going to the whiteboard the aide went to the microphone.

"And they're calling the election…" he said. "For Lindsay Bluth!"

Lindsay shrieked with excitement and before Michael knew what was happening she'd thrown her arms around him. He stepped back automatically, panicked at her embracing him like this in the front of everyone, then realized no one would think anything of her hugging her brother right now and hugged her back.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she whispered, clinging to him tightly.

"Congratulations, Lindsay," he said, grinning uncontrollably.

She pulled away and laughed weakly, looking a little embarrassed but smiling breathlessly. He grinned back, forgetting all his doubts about her qualifications for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time she'd looked so happy. She turned to face the room as the cameras flashed. Michael just kept watching her as her beautiful face glowed at the sight of the cheering crowd, and he'd never felt so confused, but he knew that he loved her, god, he loved her.


	40. Chapter 40

_December, 2012_

Michael drove up the long road through Sudden Valley to the model home. It was a rainy December night and he was driving home from his mother's. She had asked for his help taking down her Christmas decorations since Lupé had finally quit and Lucille hadn't found a replacement for her yet.

His phone rang as he pulled his mapping car into the driveway. He looked over at it and saw Lindsay's name on the screen. She was leaving for D.C. in the morning. He hadn't seen her much since the election, only at family get-togethers for Thanksgiving, their birthday, and Christmas. Things were still very awkward between them, but they'd started to go back to normal. He didn't know how their relationship kept bouncing back like this, but he was grateful for it. He was eager to put Cinco de Cuatro behind them as quickly as possible. He parked the car and answered the phone.

"Hey, Lindsay," he said.

"Hi, can I say stay with you tonight?" she asked. "My house is all packed up and I don't have anywhere to sleep."

"Oh yeah, sure," he said, getting out of the car into the rain, which was really coming down now.

"Great, are you still living in the model home?"

"Yeah," he said, hurrying in from the rain and getting out his key.

"Okay, I'll be there in about half an hour."

"Okay, see you then."

"Yeah, see you."


	41. Chapter 41

_December, 2012_

Michael took two champagne glasses out of the cupboard and rinsed out the dust in the sink. He'd guiltily realized that neither he nor anyone else in the family had done anything to celebrate Lindsay's election victory, so he'd decided to get out the champagne. He was a little uncertain about the decision—it hadn't gotten any easier to ignore his attraction to her, and he was apprehensive about adding alcohol to the equation—but he felt like he should do something to celebrate this exciting new chapter of her life. He also didn't know when he would be seeing her again, and he'd always had fun drinking with her in the past. He wanted to believe that he had enough self-control to get through one night of drinking with her without anything happening.

He heard the front door open. He turned and saw Lindsay coming in with her suitcase, raindrops glistening in her hair.

"Hey," he said, walking up to meet her.

"Hi," she said.

"Here, I'll get that," he said, taking her suitcase. "Do you want to take your old room?"

She laughed. "Sure."

He carried her suitcase up the stairs and put it in the pink bedroom Lindsay and Tobias had shared when they'd been living with him. They had finally gotten divorced, a move Lindsay had pushed for just as she was beginning her campaign. As far as Michael could tell, neither of them had any regrets about the decision. He went back downstairs and saw Lindsay waiting in the kitchen.

"I see you got out the champagne," she said, nodding to the bottle and glasses on the counter.

"Yeah, I thought we should do something to celebrate you leaving for D.C. tomorrow, it's a big deal," he said, joining her in the kitchen.

She smiled. "Yeah, that sounds fun."

He opened the bottle and the champagne fizzed out.

"Are you ready?" he asked, filling the glasses. "To be a representative, I mean?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said with a grim smile. He wondered if she was having doubts. He certainly was. He pushed her glass towards her. She took it and held it up.

"Cheers," she said. He raised his own glass.

"To your new life as representative of California's forty-eighth district," he said.

She laughed and clinked her glass with his.


	42. Chapter 42

_December, 2012_

"So what did you do today?" Lindsay asked Michael as he refilled her glass. They were sitting on the couch and getting started on their third round of champagne.

"Not much," he said. "Did some errands, went to Mom's and helped her with Christmas decorations."

"Hey, I saw Mom today too."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, she came with me to pick out a dress for the swearing-in ceremony. I shouldn't have let her come, the whole time it was just, 'Are you sure you don't want to wear something that will cover your arms?" or, 'Don't wear gray, the goal is to look less like a whale, not more."

"Jesus," Michael said.

"Yeah," Lindsay laughed, pleased with his reaction. She'd always liked relaying to him all the horrible things their mother said to her. "I ended up going with a sleeveless gray dress."

Michael laughed. "Nice."

She laughed too, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed talking to him like this. Things weren't completely back to normal—she still couldn't stop thinking about that night, and she could tell he was having the same problem—but she finally shared Michael's view that any kind of physical relationship between them would be more complicated than it was worth.

"I can't believe you're going to be a member of _congress_ ," Michael said. "When is the swearing-in ceremony?"

"January 3rd. Five days."

"Wow," he said softly.

"Are you proud of me?" she asked.

He smiled. "Yes," he said. "I _am_ a little confused by your platform though. What happened to being severely liberal?"

"Oh, that was just to get elected. Once I'm in office I can do whatever I want."

"Wait, you mean—you're just going to vote with the Democrats on everything?"

"Exactly," she said, grinning.

"You're not serious."

"Yes, I am," she said giddily.

"People are gonna go nuts!"

"I know. Pretty great, huh?"

"No, it's not! You're gonna get assassinated!"

She laughed. "By who, the CEOs who voted for me?"

"You certainly won't be reelected.

"Who cares? I don't wanna do this for more than two years anyway, and in the meantime I'll go down in history for beating the system."

"The system," he repeated dryly. "You mean democracy?"

"Shut up, Judge Reinhold," she said, frustrated that he wasn't as excited about her plan as she was. "D'you want your tax money spent on a giant border wall?"

"No, I guess not."

"Exactly. Trust me, it'll be amazing. Think of all the attention I'll get in the news."

"I feel like you've already been in the news enough," he said. The craziness of the election had attracted some national attention, particularly in the late-night comedy shows.

"Yeah, but that wasn't _good_ attention, that was for all the shit Sally dug up about me. I don't want the world to see me as Herbert Love's mistress. And everyone thinks I'm in the pocket of the millionaires now, I've gotta change that."

"Well, I guess I can't stop you."

"That's right," she laughed. "Hey, d'you wanna watch Sally's concession speech again?"

"No," he said. Lindsay got out her phone. "I said no."

"Come on, it will be fun," she insisted, searching for the speech on YouTube. "Here it is."

Michael sighed as she held her phone between them so they both could see.

"Well, folks, in a shocking development, Republican candidate Lindsay Bluth is the projected winner of this vicious and highly publicized congressional race," John Beard was saying as pictures of Lindsay flashed across the scene. Lindsay laughed uncomfortably as a picture came up of her hugging Michael when she'd won the election. Michael laughed too, looking embarrassed as well. Lindsay had seen the photo in the local newspaper too. She knew they were only using it because it was a heartwarming picture, but it was a rather intense hug and it made her nervous whenever she saw it.

"And now we'll hear from her Democratic challenger Sally Sitwell in what we are told will be her concession remarks," John Beard said. Sally appeared on the screen, standing on a stage in front of her supporters.

"Thank you, thank you, everybody," she said as they applauded. "Thank you so much."

"Look at how upset she looks," Lindsay said gleefully. "You can tell how shocked she is that she didn't win. I love watching that alpaca squirm."

"Alopecia," Michael sighed. Sally's alopecia was one of the things Lindsay's campaign had managed to uncover during the election season.

"A few moments ago, I called Lindsay Bluth," Sally continued. The crowd booed. "No, please," she said. Lindsay smirked. "I called Lindsay Bluth to congratulate her on her victory."

"Congratulate, yeah," Lindsay said sarcastically, remembering Sally's frosty call to her on election night. "Didn't feel very congratulatory." The video froze, buffering. "Oh no," Lindsay said, and tried moving the slider back. To her chagrin it landed on the picture of her hugging Michael and froze again. "Shit," she said, blushing and trying to move it to a different part of the video, but it was stuck. "Whatever, just forget it," she said, and turned off the phone. Michael laughed weakly. She looked up at him and laughed too. "Come on," she said, shaking her head.

"It's okay, it's a nice picture," he said, though his face was little pink as well.

She laughed again and put her phone back in her purse.

"Hey, Linds, uh…" Michael said. "I've been meaning to apologize… you know, for what happened in May."

Lindsay looked up at him in surprise. His face turned even redder.

"I thought we weren't talking about that," she said, half-jokingly, though her heart was beating quickly. She couldn't believe he was willing to bring that up.

"Believe me, I'd rather not, but I think we should, you know, to kind of…clear the air, I guess," he said, clearly embarrassed.

"Okay," she said slowly.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry. I really wasn't in a good state of mind that night."

"I don't really know what you're apologizing for," Lindsay said, laughing tensely.

"Just for…I dunno, for sending confusing signals, I guess. I didn't wanna make it seem like…like I was okay with it."

"It's fine, really," she said. She didn't think she could stand to hear him talk about how wrong it was again. "I'm not confused."

He laughed. "Okay."

"I mean, it was the first time I didn't have to fake an orgasm, I'm not complaining."

Michael choked on his drink. Lindsay blushed.

"Sorry," she said, immediately regretting her joke. "I shouldn't have said that, that was inappropriate."

He laughed weakly. "Yeah, a little."

"I'm kind of drunk right now," she explained.

"No, no, it's fine," he laughed, shaking his head. He hesitated. "Never?" he asked.

She laughed. "Yeah," she said, blushing. "I mean, I have plenty of times, you know, by myself…"

"Okay, that's enough."

"Well, you asked!" she said indignantly, embarrassed.

"Oh yeah. Sorry," he said, looking equally embarrassed. He shook his head again and laughed. "Well, that's…flattering."

She laughed. "Don't get too excited, I think it's mostly just a self-consciousness thing."

She blushed again at the look of surprise on his face, wishing she hadn't said that. He looked like he was embarrassed, touched, and confused all at the same time.

"Anyway…" she said.

"Yeah," he agreed.

There was an awkward silence as Lindsay tried desperately to think of something else to talk about. Michael seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"I wanna change the subject so badly but I can't think of anything," she said. They both burst out laughing.

"Yeah, me too," Michael agreed.

"This is good, though, we're talking about it, we're clearing the air," Lindsay said through her laughter.

"I didn't wanna talk about it in this much detail."

"You didn't?"

" _Nooo,"_ he laughed, shaking his head.

She rested the side of her face on the back of the couch, smiling affectionately at him as their laughter subsided. Her breath caught in her throat at the familiar sight of him smiling warmly back at her. She saw his smile fade slightly and knew he was thinking the same thing she was. She turned away.

"Uh, I think I'm gonna go to bed now, it's getting kinda late," she stammered. She couldn't do it, it wasn't worth it, she'd just decided she was done with that forever.

"Yeah, me too," he said quickly, looking just as confused as she was.

"Okay," she said, and started to get up from the couch, but then stopped. She hesitated, her heart racing, then impulsively turned back around and kissed him. He kissed her back without hesitation. She put her hands on his face, getting up on her knees as they kissed urgently, like someone was going to pull them apart any second. She sighed, thinking about all the years she'd spent waiting for him to come back to her. There was no point in trying to move on, she knew she would always be in love with him.

He pulled away. She gasped like he'd slapped her.

"Lindsay," he said.

"No, don't," she said quickly, and kissed him again.

"Lindsay, I'm sorry…"

"Come on, I know you want this too," she said desperately.

"It doesn't matter."

"We already have," she said in frustration. "One more time won't make a difference. Just one more time and we're done."

She kissed him again. He groaned as he let her kiss him, his body going slack. She could feel how much he wanted to let her continue. She caressed his face again, willing him not to run out on her. He sighed.

"Yeah," he murmured between kisses. "Yeah, just one more time."


End file.
